


Stick Around to See How It Ends

by coreopsis



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: AU, Bandom - Freeform, Bandslash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Brendon, Jon, Frank, Gerard, Spencer, Pete, and other bandom people work in a drug store, Bob is the hottest Brinks guard ever, and if you want to rent movies then Mikey is your man.  It started out as a dorky little Take Your Fandom to Work kind of thing and turned into a huge multi-pairing story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. boredom, pining, and Bob's band

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as a WIP on my LJ. This version has been cleaned up considerably, but still not beta read. The title was taken from a song by Cobra Starship

Brendon calls back to the pharmacy and says, "Spencer, I'm bored."

"I'm busy," says Spencer distractedly. "Go bother Jon."

"Can't. He's got like seventy-eight rolls of film to process."

"Busy, Brendon," says Spencer and hangs up.

Brendon waits about twenty minutes in which only he rings up two potheads who buy eight bags of candy each and offer him half a joint, which he turns down because a)random drug tests and b)cameras, dude. Then he calls Spencer again. "Seriously, so bored. I can feel my brain leaking out my ears."

Spencer sighs. "Ask Pete to give you something to do." That's Spencer, always so helpful.

"No way, man. He's evil. Last time, he made me count cigarettes. By hand! No Telxon! Three times!"

"Harsh," Spencer says, and Brendon is sort of ridiculously pleased that Spencer agrees how completely unfair that is. "But seriously, I'm really busy and Patrick is giving me a Look. I'll come talk to you when I get a break, okay?"

Brendon hangs up the phone with a sigh. He only has a couple hours left on his shift, but the store is dead and he's already taken his break. The clock seems to be moving backward. For just a moment, he's actually tempted to sneak into the office and get his phone out of his locker so he can at least text Shane with tales of how bored he is. But he can't risk getting suspended so he just mentally composes what he would text if he could.

When Spencer finally gets his break, he stops by photo long enough to flirt with Jon and buy an energy drink, then comes up to Brendon's register to lean on the counter and crack open his Red Bull.

"I've only had one customer since the last time I talked to you, and all she did was bitch that everything's cheaper at Wal-Mart."

Spencer nods sypathetically, but says, "We've been really busy. Greta called out sick, and I'm doing everything in my power to stay on top of things so that Pete doesn't come back to "help" us out any."

Brendon can't help but grin because when assistant manager Pete helps out in the pharmacy while Patrick is the pharmacist on duty, he spends most of his time flirting and trying to make Patrick pay attention to him. Brendon thinks that Pete should never have applied to be a manager, but understands that he thought head photo supervisor just wasn't impressive enough to woo Patrick with. Patrick seems kind of resistant to Pete's wooing in any case. Spencer finds it as hilarious as he does annoying, and Brendon just finds it completely hilarious.

"Oh, hey, can I ask you a favor?" Spencer sets his can down on the counter and shoves his hand into the front pocket of his navy blue scrubs pants. "My best friend from home--you know, Ryan?-- is coming into town tonight and he's gonna swing by and pick up the keys to my place." He pulls his keys out and separates his apartment key from his car keys, and gives it to Brendon, shoving the others back into his pocket. "He should be here soon, but I've got to get back to work."

"What's he look like? How will I know him?" Brendon thinks this is a reasonable question.

"He'll be the one asking for my keys. Don't tell me that happens all the time."

"No," Brendon concedes, "but it _could_."

Spencer laughs and shakes his head. "Don't worry, you can't miss him."

Ten minutes after Spencer goes back to work, a vision of loveliness in a vintage vest and paisley scarf comes through the door. Brendon hopes like hell this is Spencer's friend. "Please tell me you're Ryan."

The vision of loveliness touches the end of his scarf and nods. "You have Spencer's keys?"

Brendon picks them up from under the counter, but doesn't hand the keys over right away. He gives his most dazzling smile, and says, "You must be Ryan. Hi, I'm Brendon."

The vision of--well, _Ryan_ lifts one eyebrow. "So your name tag says."

Brendon is about to come back with something devastatingly witty, but he's interrupted by Jon yelling across the store. "Ryan Ross! Come over here right now."

Jon has his arms buried in the big black collapsible box he uses to change the photo paper without exposing it. Brendon watches somewhat enviously as Ryan goes around the counter and gives Jon a brief one-armed hug. Brendon drifts closer because it's not like he has any customers or anything else productive to do. "So how come you've met Ryan and I haven't?"

"You were out of town on a band trip last time he came to visit."

"And you didn't think to tell me about Spence's hot friend. You suck, Jon."

"I'm awesome and you know it."

"Well, yes, but still..." Brendon tilts his head toward Ryan. "Holding out is not awesome."

Jon just smiles placidly and pulls his arms out of the box. He gives Ryan a full bear hug before ushering him back sround to the customer side of the counter. "So how long are you in town for?"

"I don't know yet. I have to talk to some people at the university," Ryan says in a flat tone that just makes him more interesting in Brendon's eyes. "I might be moving here next semester."

Brendon's heart speeds up at the news that Ryan might become a more permanent fixture in Spencer's life and, by extention, in Brendon's, but he doesn't say anything. He's already called Ryan hot right in front of him, so now is the time to play it cool.

Jon shoots him a knowing glance, but Brendon isn't worried. Jon is just freakishly perceptive sometimes.

"Yeah, so I should probably get going." Ryan looks from Jon to Brendon and back again. "See you later, Jon?"

"Sure. I'll swing by after work."

"Spencer said he might have to work a little late, so if you want, I can come over and keep you company," Brendon offers, the very picture of casual indifference.

"Um." Ryan looks from Brendon back to Jon, who says,

"He's mostly harmless."

"_Mostly_?" Brendon and Ryan ask at the same time, but in entirely different ways. Ryan looks disbelieving and Brendon is sort of outraged without being completely sure if he really _wants_ to be completely harmless.

Jon just laughs and moves back into his lab. He still has seventy-eight rolls of film to process.

***

When the Brinks truck pulls up outside on Warehouse Day, Gerard abandons what he's doing in the photo lab--replacing the chemicals in the machine-- as soon as Frank pages the code for Brinks. He walks out from behind the counter to lounge against the digital picture kiosk which puts him conveniently right by the office door. He catches Frank shooting him a dirty look, because he has customers and Gerard doesn't.

Before Bob, the hottest Brinks guard ever, has even gotten out of the armored truck, Spencer comes strolling up from the direction of the pharmacy, and Brendon pops out of aisle seven where he's been restocking office supplies. They all just kind of loiter in the area outside the office, not even pretending to be busy.

Bob walks briskly into the store with his satchel in his left hand, his right relaxed at his side, just inches away from the gun on his hip. He doesn't bother to take off his sunglasses, which just makes him look even cooler than usual.

"Well, helloooo, Hot Stuff," Frank calls out, making a faint blush color Bob's cheeks as he mumbles something in return.

"Hey, Bob," choruses everyone else a little more circumspectly, everyone adding his own variation of "how's it going, what's up," etc.

Bob just kind of flicks his blond hair out of his eyes with a tilt of his head--Gerard seriously thinks he needs a moment to himself after that-- nods and says, "Okay."

Pete and Mr. Hall both just shake their heads as they come and open door to let Bob into the office.

A few minutes later, when his business is concluded, Bob comes back out of the office and stops beside Gerard. "I saw your brother just a few minutes ago. He said to tell you that you still owe him five bucks and a pack of smokes."

Gerard just beams at Bob and doesn't really have a response, not a reasonable making-conversation type response anyway. Beaming is pretty much it.

Bob just nods at him and at the other boys hanging around, then walks out of the store, speaking codes into the radio clipped to the collar of his shirt just before he steps outside.

Gerard, Spencer, Brendon, and Frank all kind of sigh and go back to work. Gerard hears Spencer whispering to Brendon that Jon is going to be pissed that he missed Bob again. Gerard is intensely happy he switched shifts with Jon. Even though he loathes getting up early, day shift is kind of awesome when Bob shows up.

When Gerard gets his lunch break, he goes next door to the video store where Mikey works and gives him a pack of cigarettes, and thanks him for mentioning him to Bob.

As he's leaving, Mikey says, "Hey, what about the five bucks?" But Gerard pretends not to hear him.

***

One afternoon, Ryan is hanging out with Brendon out in the parking lot before his shift starts and Spencer's ends. Brendon is staring at Ryan and hanging on every word he says, and finally Ryan stops talking and says, "Brendon, You know I'm straight, right?"

"What the fuck?" Brendon looks Ryan up and down, from his flat-ironed hair to the shoes carefully chosen to match his tight pinstriped pants, and raises an eyebrow. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Also, way to stereotype, dude." Ryan sighs and shakes his head, because he can see it's not sinking in. He'd really thought Spencer had cleared this matter up, but obviously, he hasn't. "My clothes make no difference to who I fuck, you know. I'm straight. I like girls. I date girls. Exclusively."

Brendon doesn't say anything. His face just closes down, and Ryan feels like a dick. "I'm sorry?"

"Sorry that you're straight? Don't be stupid, Ryan. It's cool. You are who you are." Brendon shrugs like it's no big deal and swings his sneakered feet against the bumper of his car. "Doesn't make any difference to me."

But Ryan still feels like a dick.

 

***

"You ready for your break?" Jon asks, sidling up behind the counter to prop his chin on Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon shakes his head and motions at his register, which is in the middle of a transaction. "Waiting on a customer to come back."

Jon steps back and to the side so he can see Brendon's face better. "You all right?"

Brendon just shrugs, keeping his eyes on the counter in front of him.

"No, really, what's wrong? You haven't smiled all night. Not even when the funny drunk girls came in and hit on you." Brendon continues to stare at nothing and look sort of miserable. "Come on, Bden. I miss your smile."

"The boy I thought might be the love of my life is straight," Brendon says with a deep sigh that makes Jon ache more than he thought possible. Brendon looks as if he might say more, but his customer comes back with her arms full of more clearance crap, and Jon hears his phone ringing.

"I'll be back in a minute."

After answering fifty-three questions about various photo services, Jon goes back over to the front. "Okay, so what were you about to say?"

"I don't really want to talk about it." Brendon signs off his register and says, "I'll be back in fifteen."

 

When Jon goes on his own break about half an hour later, he runs across the street to Starbucks and picks up Brendon's favorite drink. When he brings it back and hands it to Brendon, Brendon gives him a quick hug--and Jon totally doesn't bury his nose in Brendon's hair and hold on tight, although that's really all he can think about doing-- but he still doesn't smile.

Brendon takes a sip of his coffee and gives Jon a big-eyed look over the rim of the cup. "You're the best, Jon Walker."

"But not the love of your life," says Jon quietly. He's casual about it, just a very good friend, but Brendon is sunk too deep into his own misery to notice. Jon just sighs and goes back to work.

***

Brendon had only been working at the store a couple of weeks when Jon walked into the stockroom and heard him singing along to **Don't Stop Believin'** as he sorted through the mixed totes. And he was _good_. When Jon started harmonizing with him, Brendon grabbed a rectangular pink box out of an open tote and used it as a microphone as he belted out the chorus.

Jon broke up laughing when he realized that Brendon was singing into a pregnancy test. 99% Accurate!

Brendon grinned and didn't even seem embarrassed. He just tossed a box of condoms at Jon and said, "Keep singing, laughing boy."

And Jon did.

 

***

Bob comes into the store on a Thursday night and Gerard gets a flutter of excitement in his chest when Bob walks straight up to the photo counter. He's obviously off duty, because he's dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. He has the collar of his black jacket turned up against the wind, and he's wearing a lip ring.

It takes Gerard several seconds to kick start his brain enough to actually focus on what Bob is saying to him. _Lip ring!_

"...so you'll have to show me what to do."

Gerard replays the conversation in his head and catches up, "Oh, sure, just step right over here and I'll walk you through it." He comes around the counter and takes the memory card from Bob's hand and pops it into the correct slot on the digital photo kiosk. He runs through the whole opening routine on autopilot, intensely aware of Bob looming behind him, leaning in a little closer than necessary to peer over Gerard's shoulder. He smells so good--leather and musk--that Gerard is tempted to turn around and lick him. The pictures Bob chooses to print are mostly of his dog, but then he clicks on some shots of a band playing on a tiny, badly lit stage.

Gerard says, "I can try to clean that up for you a little if you want me to. I can't promise miracles."

"No, I understand. Whatever you can do would be great," Bob says, just as Gerard realizes that Bob is in the pictures, playing the drums. In fact, he appears to be whaling the shit out of the drums. Gerard really, really wants to lick him now.

Instead, he asks how often Bob plays, and where and when and can Gerard come see him.

Bob looks kind of pleased--Gerard hopes so hard he's pleased--when he tells Gerard that he's playing on Saturday at a dumpy little club that Gerard was only peripherally aware of. "I'll put you on the list."

"What time?" Gerard says casually, but inside he's jumping up and down at being put on Bob's list.

"We usually go on around 10." Bob smiles. "I think you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," Gerard says with a big grin, thinking that it wouldn't matter if Bob's band decided to do soft rock hits of the 70s.

He tells Bob when he can pick up his pictures and watches him walk out the door, then he runs into the office.

"Pete, are you closing on Saturday?"

"Yeah, why?" Pete looks up from whatever work he's pretending to do on the computer.

"I have to be off." Gerard gives Pete the Big Eyes that always work so well in pretty much all situations. In fact, asshole customers have apologized for being assholes once Gerard turns the Big Eyes on them. "Something really, really important came up."

"As long as you find someone to work for you, I don't care." Pete smiles a little slyly--it's not actually a good look for him, but Gerard forgives him because his head is full of Bob right now. "You going to see Bob's band play?"

Gerard just sighs. Pete always seems to know everything before anyone else. It's kind of annoying.

 

***

After Brendon mopes around for a couple of days, Spencer decides it is time to get him sorted out. Naturally, he does this by getting Brendon good and drunk before he even tries to address the issue.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brendon asks bitterly, but still drapes himself against Spencer's side, ignoring the other three-quarters of the couch that is available to him.

"I didn't know I had to. I mean...I've known Ryan practically my whole life. I'm used to him. He's just, you know _Ryan_." Spencer pets Brendon consolingly. "He didn't try to lead you on on purpose or anything. He's just..."

"Yeah," Brendon says grumpily and takes another gulp of his beer.

"You've only known him a week. You can't be in love with him." Spencer is convinced of this. Hormones may be immediate, but love takes time.

"What? No. I know I'm not, but I could have been. It's the possibility I miss most." Brendon rubs his cheek against Spencer's shoulder. "The _possibility_, Spence."

"Ryan is not the only possibility in your life, you know."

"I'm all alone and I'll probably die alone. I should go ahead and get a bunch of cats now, so I can be properly pathetic."

"Shut up, you overdramatic moron. You're what...21? 22? You've got plenty of time to find someone and why in hell would you even think about settling down now, anyway?"

"I'm a committer, Spence. Yes, it's true. But I don't want to get married or whatever right this minute. I just want someone who is mine. Just...mine."

"Well, open your eyes, then. Pay attention," Spencer says, reaching up and waggling Brendon's head with his free hand.

"What? Why?" Brendon pokes Spencer, unerringly hitting that spot right below his ribs that is wicked ticklish. Spencer squirms but not hard enough to dislodge Brendon from his side. "Spencer, are you...are you carrying a torch for me? Are you pining? I'll bet you're pining."

"No, not me, you doofus," Spencer says, cracking up at the idea of him pining over anyone.

"Good, because you're kind of abusive, what with all the name calling tonight." Brendon sits up and away from Spencer to give him a piercing look--well, as piercing as he can manage when he's almost too drunk to focus, but Spencer appreciates the intent. "So are you saying there is someone pining for me?"

"All I'm saying is pay attention." Spencer set his empty bottle on the coffee table and cracked open another one. "Now I'm changing the subject away from your pathetic love life."

Brendon snorted a laugh

"Gee told me that Bob the hot Brinks guard plays in a band. We should go see him on Saturday night. We can ask Jon too."

"Sure. He kind of deserves it since he missed seeing Bob at the store three times in a row." Brendon shakes his head pityingly. "That's just criminal."

"Somehow I don't think Jon's really that broken up about it. He's been a little distracted lately," says Spencer thoughtfully, wondering if Brendon might possibly get the hint.

"Nobody is too distracted to appreciate Bob the hot Brinks guard."

Spencer hums his agreement but secretly thinks that Jon wouldn't notice Bob stripping off in front of him as long as Brendon was there.

Okay, that may be a bit extreme, but the point still stands. The guy has it _bad_.

***

In a fit of nerves, Gerard drags Mikey with him to the club to see Bob play. At the door, he announces with great glee that he's _on the list_. The bouncer waves him in but makes Mikey pay, which Mikey will remind Gerard of periodically, just because he can.

"That's about fifteen bucks you owe me now, Gee."

"Yeah, yeah," Gerard mutters distractedly as he sees Bob bent over his drum kit, adjusting something or other. His breath catches in his throat when Bob straightens up to his full height and takes a drink from a bottle of beer, his head tipped back and his throat a long gorgeous line that gives Gerard terribly (delicious) dirty thoughts. "I want to climb him like a tree," he sighs before he can stop himself.

"Gee, please." Mikey makes a disgusted face at him. "There are some things I don't need to know about my brother, and I know way too much about you already. Besides, he's not even that much taller than you."

"It's not the height of the tree, it's the sturdiness of the branches." Gerard knows that had sounded way more profound in his head than it did just floundering in the air, but fuck it, he knows what he means and he figures Mikey probably does too.

"What. _thefuck._."

Gerard mutters an apology but can't drag his eyes away from Bob long enough to see if Mikey accepts. When he finally does look around, Mikey has drifted away to talk to some of the guys from Gerard's store that are clustered around a small table near the stage. Spencer waves him over but Gerard goes and gets a bottle of water from the bar first, just to have something to do with his hands.

When he joins the group at the table, Gerard squeezes into a chair between Mikey and Brendon. Spencer's friend Ryan that Gerard has never formally met but has seen around and heard a lot about is perched on the edge of chair on the other side of the table, occasionally shooting weird looks at Brendon who seems to be ignoring him. Mikey and Spencer are talking, heads tilted close and Gerard can't make out their conversation except the word "embarrassing" from Mikey and "fucking adorable" from Spencer. He decides it's best if he doesn't know what they're talking about. He has his suspicions and they're not flattering.

"So, do you know anything about Bob's band?" Gerard asks Brendon, looking over at Ryan to include him.

"Not really. I met the guitarist once. At a house party last spring. I've been trying to remember his name." Brendon laughs kind of low and says, "Maybe I should just go ask him."

"Best way to find out," Gerard agrees, and anything else he would have said is cut off by the surprisingly heavy weight of Frank landing on his back. Gerard glances up with a smile in time to get a smacking kiss on the cheek and bony fingers carding through his hair.

"Gee, you look hot tonight," Frank says with a devilish grin. "Bob won't be able to keep his hands off you."

"Fuck, Frank, just...fuck." Gerard can feel his face heating up and knows he's blushing but he can't stop it. He takes a long gulp of his water and hides his face in the sleeve of his hoodie under the guise of wiping his mouth off.

When he looks up, Frank has circled around to the other side of the table and he's got Jon Walker in tow, his camera in one hand while the other clutches two bottles of beer. Jon holds the beer out to Brendon and says, "You looked thirsty."

Brendon takes one of the bottles from between Jon's fingers with a sweet smile, and Gerard, feeling as if he's intruding into a private moment, makes himself look away. His gaze settles on Bob and the small smile tilting up the corner of his mouth as he listens to a guy with an incredibly impressive mane of curly hair and a guitar slung across his shoulder. Gerard sighs and hears Frank laugh, but when he looks over Frank is talking to Ryan and grinning like a maniac. Ryan is watching Frank with the kind of _is this guy for real_ look on his face that a lot of people have around Frank.

Gerard feels free to go right back to staring at Bob. He can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday night.

***

Brendon sips at his beer. He's been making it last for a while, not really wanting to get drunk. A weird tension settles through his shoulders as he watches Jon stalking around the edges of the stage, taking pictures of the band. He drains the bottle and goes for another one. He stands against the bar, eyes on Jon, the edge of the wood digging into the middle of his back almost painfully.

The band is good, he thinks. But he doesn't remember a single song they've played so far. What he remembers, what he will remember for a long time to come, is the curve of Jon's fingers on his camera and the way he glances over occasionally, searching out Brendon. He remembers the smile that comes when his eyes meet Brendon's. It's a very..._interesting_ smile, intriguing even. Brendon thinks it's going to take some time for him to figure it out. Something tells him that it'll be worth the effort.

***

As the last crash of drums and squeal of guitar fades away into a chorus of cheers and whistles and catcalls, Gerard finally drags his gaze away from Bob and glances around at the people at his table. Frank is standing on his chair yelling something incomprehensible but cheerfully encouraging at the band, and Ryan is looking at him like he's some sort of exotic animal that may not be entirely tame. Brendon is laughing at them both, while Jon snaps picture after picture. Gerard turns his head to the right and sees that Mikey has scooted so close to Spencer that he's almost in his lap, and Spencer's got a hand wrapped snugly around Mikey's waist. Gerard blinks and wonders if he missed something, but then he knows if it's important Mikey will tell him anyway. He always does.

Shaking his head a little, Gerard works himself out of the tangle of chairs and bodies all crammed together and stands up. He looks to Bob again-- always looking, always wanting--and Bob is looking back at him with a brilliant smile that adds a whole new dimension to hot-Brinks-guard-who-also-plays-drums-in-a-rock&amp;roll-band-and-maybe-loves-his-dog-a-bit-too-much. Gerard goes over and Bob meets him at the edge of the stage, thoughtfully stepping the six or so inches down to the floor so he's not towering over Gerard.

"You guys were really great. You were really great." Gerard knows he's repeating himself and grinning like a fool, but he can't really stop himself.

"Thanks for coming," Bob glances down and away for a moment, before continuing, "I wasn't sure you would."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Gerard assures him, feeling as if it is a deep and meaningful truth and not just a polite platitude.

Bob just smiles and says, "So, uh, you want to get a drink or something?"

"Yeah, that would be--" He stops himself before he can say "great" again, and finishes, "good. It's kind of hot in here." He'd stripped out of his hoodie nearly an hour ago and was clutching it in one hand.

Bob looks Gerard up and down and says, "Yeah it is" all in a rush, and it's so cheesy that Gerard falls a little bit in love on the spot.


	2. clues, not!stalking, customers suck, enter William Beckett

On Monday night, Jon isn't scheduled to work, but he comes by anyway and gives Brendon half a bag of gummy worms. Before Brendon can say much more than "hey" and "thank you", Jon is leaving again, saying, "Busy, busy. Got a huge project due tomorrow."

"Okay, then," says Brendon to himself.

 

***

At closing, Gerard walks out of the store well ahead of Brendon and Pete, who has to set the alarm and lock up. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he approaches his car and notices a shadowy figure lurking next to the tree both he and Brendon are parked under. He stops in his tracks. Just as he is about to turn and run back to the relative safety of Pete (he's little but kind of vicious when he wants to be), the figure steps out into the illumination of the street lights. He lets out his breath and grins in relief at Bob.

"What the fuck. I thought you were going to murder me or something."

"No, you're safe," says Bob, smiling back, and Gerard feels it. He really, really feels it, and it makes him duck his head and hide behind his hair.

"So," Bob says, and Gerard looks up to find him rubbing the back of his neck and looking at everything except Gerard. "I forgot to give you my number on Saturday night. Just, umm, in case you wanted to. Use it. To, you know, call or text. Me."

Bob's nervousness makes Gerard feel more confident so he doesn't even blush when he hands over his phone and says, "Put it in, and give me yours."

Bob puts his phone delicately in Gerard's outstretched hand. "So. You gonna use it?"

"Yes," Gerard answers without hesitation. He absolutely doesn't mention that he's had Bob's number on a piece of paper in his wallet ever since Bob had to give it to him at the store for his photo order. He feels a bit creepy carrying it around like a good luck charm but consoles himself that at least he didn't actually put it in his phone. "When's your band playing again?"

"Friday, if Ray gets off work in time. Dude's an overachiever and doesn't always understand the concept of day job." Bob shrugs his shoulders--wide, strong shoulders Gerard's hands itch to touch. "I think he'll make it. His girlfriend's on my side, and he does pretty much anything she wants."

"I'm off that night, so I'll be there. I won't bring Mikey this time." Gerard's time with Bob on Saturday at been cut short when Mikey got bored after Spencer left with Ryan.

"That's okay. If he needs your car, I can...uh...giveyouaridehome," Bob finishes in a rush and it takes Gerard a second to decipher what he said.

"Cool," says Gerard, looking at Bob through his hair before brushing it to the side.

Bob bites at the corner of his mouth--the one opposite the lip ring--and says, "So. Do you have to be heading home now?"

Gerard motions at the video store next door. "No, I have to wait for Mikey. They don't close until eleven."

"What do you usually do while you wait?"

"Listen to music, mostly. Sometimes I read," says Gerard bending over slightly to point at the books and comic trades on the back seat of his car.

Bob bends down and peers inside, as well. "You like Doom Patrol? That's pretty awesome."

Bob turns to smile at Gerard and their faces are Right There. So close.

Gerard can't help himself and pushes his lips against Bob's in what may be the world's most awkward kiss. Bob makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat and tilts his head and the kiss becomes a lot less awkward and considerably hotter as their mouths fit together like they were made to. Gerard has never kissed anyone with a lip ring before but he instantly decides it's his new favorite thing ever. Next to Bob himself.

Wolf whistles and enthusiastic clapping make Gerard pull away from Bob. Pete and Brendon are several spaces away, sitting on the front fender of Pete's car, where they have apparently been watching the whole conversation. Gerard takes a second to be glad they're too far away to have actually heard him and Bob being great big dorks at each other. Then he flips them off and turns back to Bob.

"Friday night," says Bob, a little sheepishly.

Gerard nods. "Friday."

"Unless, you know, we kind of run into each other again."

"That could happen, yes," Gerard says seriously, while manfully ignoring Pete yelling at Gerard to kiss him again.

As if sensing that the show is over, Brendon comes over to get into his car and gives Gerard an encouraging thumbs up.

***

Within two days, everyone who works at the store knows that Gerard totally bagged Bob the hot Brinks guard who is also, it turns out, a bitchin' drummer. This is A-OK with Gerard because he hopes that means everyone will stop drooling over Bob every time he comes in. It is a faint hope. Very faint. But sometimes Gerard can be surprisingly optimistic.

He just gets tired of assuring people that no, Bob is _not_ stalking him, for fuck's sake.

***

Brendon has only been at his register for a few minutes when he sees Mr. Hurley hang up the phone in cosmetics a little harder than necessary. He comes out from behind the counter and walks out the door where Brendon can see him just standing on the sidewalk, apparently taking deep breaths. When he comes back in, Brendon says, "Everything all right?"

"Sometimes I really hate this job. We shouldn't have to kiss the customer's ass, just keep them from calling District," Hurley says quietly, after making sure there is no one around to hear him. "It's effing ridiculous. People know exactly what all they can get away with."

"Yep, it's pretty bad," Brendon agrees, but Mister Hurley isn't even listening. He's already walking away.

Two hours into shift, while Brendon is straightening one of the dump tables near photo so he can watch Jon out of the corner of his eye, a middle aged man that Brendon recognizes as a fairly regular customer stops beside him and waves a hand at the big display of Pepsi products on sale.

"As a Christian," the guy says, giving each word a heavy emphasis, "I just can't support a company that supports homosexuals."

"Really?" Brendon looks up with a raised eyebrow. "That's weird, because as a Christian shouldn't you support everyone? We are all God's children."

"Not _them_," the guy says, the word dripping scorn. "They're an abom--"

Brendon interrupts and says, "Sorry, you meant to say 'not you'." He smiles widely and thinks the gayest thoughts he can. His thoughts are, in fact, very damn gay--he even slips some lesbian action in there for balance, and hopes it shows on his face somehow. "Jesus loves me, no matter who I sleep with."

"You dirty--" The guy breaks off as his face goes beet red. "I want to speak to your manager."

"Get out of my store," says Mr. Hurley calmly, having walked up right behind the customer in time to hear most of what he said.

"What?" The guys spins around and gapes at Hurley and it's seriously the funniest thing Brendon has seen in ages. "You can't let him talk to me like--"

"I heard what you said to my employee and I'm telling you again to get the hell out of my store or I will remove you myself." Mr. Hurley is not an imposing person--not like Mr Hall who puts the fear into would-be shoplifters just by standing near them and smiling at them--and he's generally the most easy-going manager on staff. But Brendon has never seen him this quietly furious and apparently the customer picks up on it even though Hurley hasn't raised his voice beyond normal conversational levels.

"I'll be calling your corporate office in the morning," the customer says, but he does start walking toward the door.

"Do you want me to write my name down so you don't misspell it?" calls Hurley, hands on his hips.

The customer stomps out of the store, clutching his bag of prescriptions to his chest like a shield, and when he's gone, Brendon grins at Mr. Hurley.

"You're gonna get into trouble for that, aren't you?"

"I really couldn't give a shit. That guy's on the sex offender registry anyway. Fucking child molester." Hurley takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a huff. "Stop flirting with Jon and get back to work."

He pats Brendon on the shoulder before he walks away. Jon leans against his register, and eyes Brendon curiously. "When did you flirt with me?"

Brendon grins and hops up on the counter next to Jon. "I wasn't, but I could start right now."

"Awesome," says Jon, tilting his head and grinning in a way that makes Brendon's stomach flip over and his chest feel tight in a good way.

"Get your ass off the counter, Urie, and get back to your register," says Mr. Hurley from somewhere down aisle eight. Brendon is fairly sure he can't even see them from where he is. He clearly knows Brendon a little better than Brendon thought. But Jon is still grinning at him so Brendon goes back to work a little happier than he had been before.

***

A new guy transfers from another store on Thursday morning and Jon is surprised when Pete says he'll be working in Cosmetics. There's no rule that says guys can't work in Cosmetics, of course, but it's a little unusual. Since Greta transferred to the pharmacy they've been short-handed, so maybe they had to take what they could get.

When William comes slinking in, all long and slim and graceful, it starts to make a bit more sense. With his shoulder-length hair all soft and shiny and artfully tousled about his almost-too-pretty-for-a-boy face...the customers are going to love him. Well, the female ones anyway. The men will probably just be really confused.

Frank takes one look at him and says, "Brendon is going to hate you for actually looking good in the uniform. I can't wait." He actually rubs his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

"It'll be epic." Jon can't help but agree since Brendon has been very vocal about hating the switch from wearing vests over their own shirts to uniform shirts in a cut and a shade of blue that don't look good on anybody. Except William, apparently. Although Jon secretly thinks Brendon looks pretty good in his ("horrible, awful, oh my God, it won't _breathe_, Jon") polo, but then he looks pretty good in anything he wears, even girl jeans and pale purple hoodies that clash with his red glasses.

"Okay." William shrugs. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh, it won't be serious hate. Brendon couldn't really hate anyone if his life depended on it. He's way too sweet for that," Jon says reassuringly. "He'll welcome you with open arms...eventually. He's coming in at ten today. You'll like him. Everyone loves Brendon."

"Yeah," Frank chimes in. "He sings along to the music on the PA and he's _good_."

Jon laughs and nudges Frank with his elbow. "Remember the time that old lady tried to give him and Gee a quarter each after they sang almost all of 'A Whole New World' for her?"

"They totally should have taken the quarters." Frank nods at William and changes the subject completely. "And hey, it'll be great to have someone tall around here for a change."

William looks at Pete and Patrick, who've opened the door of the inner office, and then at Jon and Frank, and laughs a little. "I see."

"Mr. Hall must get lonely sometimes," Pete agrees with a grin, while motioning William inside. "Come on, let's get you set up."

Patrick clocks in, while Jon and Frank are hanging up their jackets. Then Jon and Frank take their turns at the timeclock. Patrick picks up the cash drawers for the pharmacy, just as the inner door opens again, and when he walks over to the door leading into the store proper and says, "Somebody get the door for me?" Pete nearly leaps forward to open the door for him and then follows him out, chattering away as he follows Patrick to the pharmacy.

"Pete will be fairly useless for the next few--"

"Several," interrupts Frank.

"Several minutes," Jon says, nodding in agreement. "He got your numbers set up, right?"

"Yeah." William demonstrates by clocking in.

"Come hang out with me while I open the lab," Jon says before popping into the cooler to get his test strips out. "Then I'll show you around."

Propping his hip against the kiosk as Jon bustles around going through the morning routine, William says, "So who is G?"

"Oh, that's Gerard. He works in photo too. He's really an artist. He just works here to pay the bills while he's getting started."

"And what are you?"

Jon wonders exactly how he can answer that question truthfully when he's not always completely sure himself. Especially lately, with the whole Brendon thing he's got going on. Six months ago, he thought he knew himself very well, but now. Things keep shifting in his head and heart and he's still reconciling them. In the end, he goes for the easy answer.

"Photography major. I'll be graduating in December, so hopefully I won't be here much longer than that. But with the economy, who knows?"

Noticing how William watches everything he does avidly, Jon decides a change of subject is in order. "Are you trained for photo?"

"No, but I do like to watch," says William, somehow making it sound vaguely dirty. Jon thinks he's going to fit in pretty well around here. "How is it around here?"

"It's okay. The managers are all pretty cool. You already got a taste of the Pete &amp; Patrick Show."

"Yeah, what's up with that? We don't have to call him Mr. Wentz? At my old store, we always called the managers by their last names."

"We're supposed to, I guess, but we've known him way too long as just Pete in photo. We've all been out drinking together and...yeah, it's just not happening." Jon finishes up what he's doing and motions William to follow him. "At least we've stopped laughing at him when he answers the phone or introduces himself as Mr. Wentz. Well, mostly. I mean, Frank still does sometimes."

William nods thoughtfully but doesn't comment as Jon punches in the code to open the stockroom.

"The other managers are all right, too. Mr. Hall is cool as long as you do your job and show up when you're supposed to. He doesn't get mad often but when he does...it's not pretty. Mr. Hurley's pretty laid back. Once you get to know him, you can ask him to roll up his sleeves and show you his tattoos. He's got some sweet ink. Mr. Schechter is our new EXA and I haven't actually worked with him much myself yet. He's seems nice enough."

William hums to himself as Jon quickly points out the Cosmetics bay, the trash compactor, the cardboard bailer, and anything else he can think of that William needs to know about, then leads him back out of the stockroom.

As they walk toward the back of the store so Jon can give William the bathroom codes and show him the breakroom, William says, "So what's the deal with Frank?"

"What?" Jon actually doesn't know what William is getting at because that's a pretty wide open question that could take days to answer fully.

"Is he ummm...you know?" William starts to makes some sort of gesture but quickly drops his hand to his side.

Jon stiffens slightly and says, "No, I _don't_ know."

"Gay? Straight? Which is he?"

Jon's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the eagerness and lack of judgement in William's expression and voice. "He's straight. Well, straight-ish. He'll kiss a dude if he's drunk or if he just feels like it, but that's just...you know, Frankie."

As if he knows they were talking about him, Frank pages Jon to photo for customer assistance. "Shit, I have to finish opening the lab. You can page Pete or just ask Frankie if you need anything or have any questions.

"Okay. Thanks, Jon." William smiles and saunters off like he already owns the place.

Jon just shakes his head and hurries back to the lab to find one of his favorite customers waiting. "Hey, Mr. Fox. Sorry you had to wait."

"Oh, I'm in no hurry. I'm just working on my honey-do list," the old man says cheerfully, waving a list filled with his wife's writing. He ticks something off then plops his film down on the counter. "I'll need doubles and a CD."

"Same as always." Jon grins. Predictable customers are the best.

"Yep, same as always. I'll pick 'em later on my way back home."

Jon puts Mr. Fox's phone number into the system and then tells him when they'll be ready. As the old man pushes his cart away to finish his shopping, Jon happens to glance up toward the front of the store.

William is draped alluringly against the front counter, listening raptly to whatever Frank is telling him. Jon is fairly sure that William is barking up the wrong tree, but with Frank it's kind of hard to tell. Either way, it will be entertaining for everyone else.

***

Brendon pushes his cart down the center of the store. He fucking hates resets and revisions, and that's what he's doing today. Since the first one he's working on is in the dental aisle, far away from Photo, he's not really in a good mood. Although Jon gave him a soft little smile when he came in, so he's not in a bad mood anymore either. He's stuck somewhere in between.

He turns the cart down aisle three and comes to a stop when he sees the new guy walking toward him on legs at least a half a mile long. "His name is William. Be nice," is all Jon had said. Now Brendon understood why.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Brendon says with a roll of his eyes. William looks like something out of a Pantene commercial, not a crappy retail job.

"Nice to meet you, too," says William serenely, brushing against Brendon as he passes between the narrow opening Brendon has left at the end of the aisle. He even smells good--Perry Ellis 360 if Brendon is not mistaken.

"You are not real," says Brendon a little absently, unable to drag his gaze away from the hypnotic motion of William's slim hips.

"Get used to it," says William with a knowing smile as he walks away to greet a customer.

***

On his first break of the night, Gerard calls Mikey and tells him to meet him between their stores. He's leaning against the side wall of the video store with two cups from Starbucks on the sidewalk beside him, just lighting a cigarette when Mikey joins him.

"Can't stay too long. Getting ready for inventory," Mikey says, taking the coffee that Gerard holds out. "It's a nightmare."

"It'll be better than ours. You don't get ripped off near as much as we do." Gerard stopped pretending to care a while ago. It's gonna happen and it sucks, but there's nothing he can do about it. Maybe it would be a bigger deal if he were a manager like Mikey, but Gerard shudders at the idea of that much responsibility. He just wants a steady paycheck and a schedule that leaves him enough time to draw.

After a minute or two of companionable smoking and coffee sipping, Mikey says, "So. Bob, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Gerard grinds his cigarette butt beneath his heel and immediately lights another.

"Cool. Have you told him?"

Gerard shakes his head, and takes a deep drag off his cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly. He knows he probably should, but he doesn't want the way Bob looks at him to change. But Bob is going to offer him a beer or something, and then it'll come out anyway. He doesn't think it'll be a big deal. Bob is way too cool for that, but still, it's a pretty significant thing about Gerard that Bob should know. He just doesn't know how to bring it up or if it's too soon anyway.

As if Mikey knows exactly what he's thinking--and he probably does--he nods and says, "It'll be all right. Bob's a good guy."

"Yeah." Gerard spins his nearly empty cup between his hands. "So. Spencer Smith, huh?"

"Don't know yet." Mikey takes the half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth and looks at it for a moment. He lets it drop to the ground, and rubs it out with the toe of his shoe. "Maybe. Think you can get a ride with Mike or someone tonight? I'll probably be here pretty late."

"Sure." Gerard nods agreeably.

"Maybe Bob will be stalking you again tonight." Mikey grins suddenly and it's like the sun just came out. "I'm sure he'd give you a lift."

Gerard gives him a little shove and goes back to work. Bob is not stalking him, but Gerard wouldn't mind much if he happened to randomly show up in the parking lot at closing.

***

Spencer puts a DVD back on the shelf and tries to look around for Mikey without _looking_ like he's looking. He's so busy trying to be stealthy that he startles when Mikey comes up behind him and says, "Hey."

"Hey, Mikeyway," Spencer says, trying desperately to sound cool, uncomfortably aware that he's probably failing big time.

Mikey points at the DVD that Spencer has just mindlessly picked up. "You don't want that one." He plucks it out of Spencer's hand and replaces it with another one. "This one's better. It has vampires _and_ werewolves."

"Sounds great," says Spencer, even though he's not really a big fan of either vampires or werewolves. He's only lurking in this section because it's Mikey's favorite. "You have any more suggestions?"

Talking about movies makes Mikey more animated and excited--which on anyone else would look more like 'mildly interested', but whatever--than anything except for maybe music. He damn near glows and his eyes sparkle behind his glasses. Spencer gives him his full attention because he can't not, and before he knows it, he's standing at the counter with a stack of DVDs and Gabe, the clerk, laughing at him as Mikey wanders back to whatever he was doing in the first place.

Spencer winces when Gabe gives him his total, and Gabe says, in a way that is almost sympathetic, "Maybe you should find a less expensive way to stalk Mikey."

"What?" Spencer raises an eyebrow and hands over some cash.

"Bring him coffee next time," Gabe says, counting out Spencer's change. "I mean, you could do that if you wanted to make sure you had his attention."

"Why would I wanna do that?" Spencer gives Gabe the look that usually makes people back off and leave him the fuck alone.

"Not being into dudes myself, I honestly don't know." Gabe pauses and then opens his mouth like he's got something else to say, then just shakes his head.

"Well, okay, then."

"Your movies are due back on Monday. Mikey's opening that day, just so you know. Enjoy."

Spencer walks through the security gate and snatches up his bag of videos. Then he totally does not run back to work like a coward.

 

"Have a good lunch?" Brendon grins, eyeing the bag clutched tightly in Spencer's sweaty hand.

"Shut up," Spencer says flatly, but he can feel his cheeks heating up.

 

***

Later, Brendon saunters over to photo and says, "Hey, Jon Walker."

"Hey, Brendon Urie." Jon doesn't stop whatever he's doing in the lab. Brendon kind of finds it all mysterious and fascinating as long as nobody's trying to make him learn to do any of it.

"Wanna go over to Spencer's tomorrow night and watch horror movies?"

"How many did he end up with this time?"

"Six."

Jon just shakes his head and says, "There's gotta be a more effective method of courtship."

"Yeah, like saying 'hey, I like you, we should go out some time'. Not whatever he and Mikey are doing."

Jon goes really still and his mouth briefly does something weird before he asks, "That works?"

"Sure." Brendon shrugs, because it seems obvious to him. He's got the feeling that there's something important just about to happen. He's been feeling like this for a week or so and it's weirding him out. "Direct is best and brevity is the soul of wit. My communications prof repeated that one ad infinitum."

"Oh. Well, then. I like you, we should go out sometime." Jon doesn't actually give Brendon a chance to say anything, just points toward his register and says, "You've got a customer."

"Damn it," says Brendon in a heartfelt tone.

***

Frank walks by the Cosmetics counter on his way to the bathroom, and William says, "Do you have an obsession for men?"

"What the hell, dude?"

"Would you like one?" William points to the big glass cologne case behind him. "It's on sale this week. Forty percent off."

"Uh, yeah. No, thanks." Frank keeps walking but he can feel William still staring at him. He understands because his ass is pretty fine, but still. Creepy.

 

***

 

Brendon has nearly a dozen customers in a row and by the time there's a break and he can go talk to Jon, Jon has a line of customers of his own. It continues like this until the end of their shift. It takes longer for Jon to finish up and clock out, so Brendon waits for him by his car.

"Did you... Were you serious?" Brendon asks as soon as Jon walks up and unlocks his car. He tries not to swallow his tongue as Jon strips off his polo and is very briefly naked from the waist up before he slips into a faded old Rolling Stones long-sleeved t-shirt. It's chilly and his nipples are pointy and Brendon is totally not staring at Jon's chest. "About, you know."

"Yeah. Yeah, I meant it." Jon shuffles his feet and shifts his weight from hip to hip. It's terribly distracting because Jon's khakis are kinda loose and shift when he does, but Brendon manages to focus enough to figure out what Jon has just said.

"The gummy worms were a..." Brendon recalls Jon's own words from earlier and continues, somewhat awkwardly, "uh, method of courtship?"

"Yep." Jon grins and steps closer and Brendon _wants_ so hard it almost hurts. His fledgling crush on Ryan was nothing like this. He makes himself focus on the sounds coming from Jon's mouth and not just how soft and pink and inviting it looks. "If you don't have anything important to do later, we could go get some dinner or something."

"I don't have anything more important to do than you." And Brendon hopes that didn't sound nearly as fervent and dirty to Jon as it did to him. He grins so big that he probably looks goofy, but he can't help himself.


	3. an accidental date and an intentional one

Gerard doesn't tell Mikey about planning to see Bob's band again. He doesn't have to. Mikey already knows, in the magical way he often seems to know everything.

"I'm not gonna crash it," Mikey tells him, somewhat earnestly, sitting on the corner of Gerard's bed in their parents' basement. "I have plans anyway. I'm going to Spencer's to watch movies."

"Oh?" Gerard raises his eyebrows and gives him the concerned big brother look that he saves for special occasions, figuring if he uses it too much it'll lose its power.

"No, not like that." Mikey fidgets with his lighter and sounds unaffected, but Gerard knows how to read his disappointment, slight though it may be. "Some guys he works with will be there too." He stares off into space for a minute. "Well, I think so. Jon asked me to go, and he mentioned Brendon and...it got kind of confusing, to be honest, because I was at work and thinking about inventory and only half listening."

Gerard's eyebrows are making a determined climb for his hairline now but he can't quite help it. "That's a little--"

"Weird? Yeah, now that you mention it." Mikey shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of the crumpled box shoved into the back pocket of his jeans. "I'm sure it's fine. Don't wear all black again. When you see Bob."

"Okay," says Gerard, considering his wardrobe and wondering what the fuck he is supposed to wear. His non-black choices are limited.

 

***

When Mikey shows up at Spencer's apartment with a six pack of Coke Zero, Spencer opens the door wearing pajama pants with little green frogs and red hearts on them. His white t-shirt has the Lucky Charms leprechaun on it. He stands there with one hip cocked to the side and his sock-clad feet almost crossed over each other, a pose that shouldn't be hot but is. But more importantly, he is obviously surprised to see Mikey on his doorstep. "Hey, Mikey. What's up?"

"Jon Walker invited me over to watch movies? I thought you knew?" And really, Mikey would like to make a definitive statement instead of turning everything into a question, but then, "He said you wanted me to come over?"

"Oh. That puts Brendon's call into perspective. He said that he and Jon couldn't make it and 'please don't kill us'--that's a direct quote, and I'm seriously considering it, the meddling fuckers."

"I can go," Mikey mumbles and looks at the floor. "Gee wanted me to go with him to see Bob's band." Which is a blatant lie because Gerard clearly didn't want Mikey anywhere near his I-think-it's-a-date-but-I-can't-be-_sure_. Mikey doesn't want to witness the car crash of Gerard flirting with someone anyway, but he could find something else to do, somewhere that didn't involve dying of embarrassment in front of Spencer.

"No." Spencer clears his throat and motions Mikey inside. "No, you can stay. I was just going to watch movies by myself, which is kind of pathetic. I guess. Um. Just let me put some real pants on."

Spencer rolls his eyes and laughs at himself, and Mikey finds himself grinning and saying, "Don't change on my account. They're cute."

Spencer laughs again, sounding more at ease. "I'll never live this down, will I?"

"Nope," Mikey agrees. He fully plans to take a picture with his phone at the earliest opportunity.

They order pizza and drink some of the Coke Zero that Mikey brought and watch the movies Spencer rented. They start out at opposite ends of the small couch, but by the time the pizza's finished, they've inched closer and closer to the middle. It's nothing they discuss or acknowledge, just a subtle shifting until just a few inches separate their hips and thighs and their arms brush whenever Mikey takes a sip of his drink.

Between the first and second movies, they take a bathroom break and while Mikey has his turn, he pulls out his phone and texts Gerard: _on date by accident wtf srsly how does this happen to me_

After he takes a piss and washes his hands, Mikey is about to leave the bathroom when his phone pings and he reads Gerard's reply: _ffs make the most of it_. And then a second later, because Gerard is evil: _bob is hot drumming i so wanna do him now_.

Mikey comes out of the bathroom with his phone still in his hand. Spencer takes one look at his face and says, "What's wrong?"

"My brother," Mikey starts, and then shakes his head and shoves his phone in his pocket. "Never mind."

"Okay." Spencer nods and again says, "Okay. What do you want to watch next?"

Mikey slumps on the couch next to Spencer, close enough that their knees knock together, but Spencer doesn't move away and neither does Mikey. Mikey flips through the DVD cases quickly and then picks one. "Shaun of the Dead?"

"Sure." Spencer gets up to switch out the DVDs in the player and then comes back over and sits back in the same spot, putting him right back up against Mikey's side.

Mikey smiles and nudges Spencer's leg with his knee. "You might like this one better. It's not really horror, more of a comedy. With zombies."

"I liked the last one," Spencer says, but the protest sounds a bit weak and Mikey's not stupid.

"You're not really a fan of horror movies are you?" Mikey says, still smiling but turning his head so he can stare at Spencer directly.

"No, not really." Spencer picks at a loose thread on the seam of his pajama pants with rapt attention, and then he looks up with a sly smile. "But you are."

"Seriously? You just rented movies so you could talk to me?" Mikey laughs a little and he's not even sure himself whether it's more from amusement or sheer fucking relief. "Did you notice that I've started picking up every prescription my family ever needs?"

"Because..." Spencer motions to himself with a hopeful look. "Really?"

Mikey nods and they both grin at each other like idiots. After a while, Mikey's grin starts to fade and so does Spencer's and they're just staring at each other intently. Later, Mikey won't be sure who moved first, but it doesn't matter when Spencer's mouth is suddenly on his. Mikey's never kissed a guy with a beard before and it's weird but cool, softer than he would have imagined. Mikey parts his lips and Spencer tastes like Coke Zero at first, but after a moment or two it's just Spencer and it's _fantastic_.

"Still want to kill Jon and Brendon?" Mikey asks sometime later when his hand is under Spencer's shirt, spread out across the warm smooth skin of Spencer's back, and Spencer's ridiculous pajama-clad legs are tangled with his.

"No, not so much." Spencer nudges Mikey's jaw with his open mouth and squeezes Mikey's hips, and Mikey kind of forgets that anyone else exists.

 

***

 

It takes Gerard at least half an hour to decide what to wear. He tries on three completely different outfits that are all black before giving in to Mikey's demands (in absentia) to mix it up a little. He puts on a deep red shirt with a black and white striped tie. The pants and jacket are black, of course. He worries that the tie is too much and takes it off, but after a moment puts it back on. Then he decides it's way too dressy for the bar he's going to and takes it off again, leaving the collar of his shirt open.

He gives up on his clothes and swipes a brush through his hair, still damp from the shower. And he's going to leave it, but then he worries that it looks like he didn't care enough to put any work into it, so he works some product in and styles it a bit (less than Mikey would have but then Mikey's not here to roll his eyes and give suggestions and heat up the flat iron).

He takes the bus to the bar, knowing full well that the last one runs before he'll be ready to leave. He almost feels guilty for setting Bob up to drive him home, but then Bob did offer. He tries not to read too much into that, but it's hard not to. He wipes his hands on his pants as he approaches the door. He reaches for his wallet but the bouncer just waves him in. "You're on the list."

Gerard takes half a second to wonder how the guy knows who he is, but then he walks inside. Bob is loitering near the entryway and if Gerard didn't know better he'd think Bob looked nervous.

"Hey. I didn't know if you'd come," Bob says, and Gerard revises what he thinks he knows.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Gerard assures him and Bob's answering smile makes him go warm all over.

"You look nice. Maybe I should have dressed up more."

"You're fine," says Gerard, meaning it. Bob is wearing jeans that hug his thighs without being too tight and a plaid flannel shirt over a black t-shirt. He looks like a really hot lumberjack and Gerard thinks he's pretty close to perfect as he is. If he'd dressed up, then Gerard would have probably jumped him before he could even get a word out.

"I'm glad you're here early. We can get a drink and talk."

Gerard nods and follows him to the bar. He's already prepared himself for this moment so after he orders a Diet Coke, he waits until the bartender moves away to say, "There's something you should know about me. I'm an alcoholic."

He does not say it apologetically or with any shame. It took him awhile to get to this point, but now he states it no differently from "I have black hair" or "I like comic books." It is just another fact about him. He doesn't know how he expects Bob to react--that's the one thing he wouldn't let himself speculate on--but he's still a little surprised when Bob frowns.

"Well, fuck. You should have told me," he says quietly.

"I didn't...I'm sorry. I just..." Gerard knows he's babbling and not speaking in full sentences but can't stop talking. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. I can just--"

"No, no, it's not. I just meant we could have gone to a movie or something less..." He waves a hand at the beer the bartender has just set in front of him and the bar in general.

"It's not a problem," Gerard assures him earnestly. He really doesn't want to make Bob feel guilty or bad at all. "I wanted to hear you play again."

"Oh. Okay. Maybe next time we can do something else." Bob looks at Gerard from the corner of his eye while he picks at the label on his bottle. "If you want to."

"I do," says Gerard, putting his hand over Bob's. "I very much want there to be a next time."

"Cool." Bob smiles and after a long moment of silence that doesn't seem nearly as awkward as it could have, Gerard asks Bob some questions about his band.

They talk about music and different bands they both like until it's time for Bob to go on stage.

Gerard doesn't realize Frank is there until he's jumping up onto the stage and picking up a guitar. He glances at Bob who just shrugs. "Ray told him he could play with us."

"And what Ray says goes, huh?"

"Pretty much." Bob pats Gerard on the shoulder and Gerard is almost certain he feels Bob's fingers brush through his hair before he's moving away to go up on stage. The bass player, that Gerard thinks might be named Mark something or other, takes his place, and after Ray has a brief conference with Frank, Bob counts them in to the first song.

When his phone vibrates in his pocket, Gerard pulls it out and laughs out loud at Mikey's text. Nobody else he knows would find himself on an accidental date, and Gerard looks forward to getting the full story tomorrow. He texts Mikey back, and then, in a fit of mischief, texts him again to let him know that Bob is very hot while he plays the drums. He snickers to himself as he pictures the look on Mikey's face when he reads that one, then he slides his phone back in his pocket and directs his full attention to the band on stage.

Gerard had known Frank plays guitar, but he had no idea he's so energetic about it. He spins and flails and generally takes up as much of the small stage as humanly possible. There's one brief moment of confusion when Frank kicks the bass player in the ass hard enough to make him stop playing and singing. He just stares at Frank for a minute before picking up the song again. Gerard thinks it was an accident but with Frank it's sometimes hard to tell just what's deliberate and what's an unfortunate by-product of his natural exuberance. Other than the occasional wayward foot, he fits in with the band as if he's been playing with them for years.

Gerard has never seen Frank look happier.

 

After the set is over, Bob motions to Gerard from the stage and then a woman who introduces herself as Ray's girlfriend is taking him by the arm and leading him to a back room that seems half dressing room and half storage room. The band and a few other people are talking and drinking, and Frank immediately breaks away from the group.

He comes over and throws his arms around Gerard and hangs on for just a shade longer than Gerard is comfortable with, only letting go when Bob wraps a hand around the back of Frank's neck. "Seriously, man."

Frank is not discouraged by this in any way. He twists out of Bob's hold and away from Gerard, only to climb right up on Bob's back. Bob groans and says, "I _will_ drop your ass."

Frank clings even tighter, wrapping his arms around Bob's neck. "Give me a ride, Bob. Show me you appreciate how awesome I was tonight."

"You were all right," Bob allows calmly, but he gives Gerard a wink where Frank can't see.

"How dare you. I was fucking fantastic."

"Yes, Frank, now let go of Bob before he has to kill you," Ray says, coming over to peel Frank off Bob's back.

"You were great, Frank," Gerard offers at last, earning him a beaming smile from Frank and a subtle nod from Bob. "Very energetic."

"Oh, yeah. I guess I should go apologize to Mark. I didn't mean to kick him." Frank bounces off to do just that with Ray trailing behind, leaving Bob and Gerard alone.

"You're going to let him keep playing with you, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I don't think dynamite would get rid of him now." Despite his doleful tone, Bob doesn't seem too bothered by being stuck with Frank for the foreseeable future.

"I think it's a good move. Ray is amazing but another guitar gives the band a fuller sound. Bigger. It's good."

"Yeah?" Bob considers what Gerard is saying and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'll talk to Ray about it tomorrow."

"What about Mark?"

"I think I know what he'll say." Bob tilts his head toward where Frank is apparently apologizing and Mark seems to be having none of it. "We'll work it out though."

 

After several minutes of conversation, Gerard excuses himself to go to the bathroom, mostly because he needs a moment to just breathe and make himself relax, so that he doesn't overwhelm Bob with what a huge dork he is. He's already gone off on one comics-related tangent that had Bob looking at him a little funny. When he comes back from the restroom, Bob is drinking a bottle of water and trying to fend off Frank with his free hand.

"Frank, don't make me hurt you," Bob says just menacingly enough to make it sound like a distinct possibility. Frank grumbles a bit but backs off and leaves Gerard and Bob alone again.

"Did you drive here tonight?" Bob leans back, sitting on the edge of the table next to Gerard, and his knee brushes Gerard's hip.

Gerard shifts minutely closer as he says, "No, Mikey needed the car to go to Spencer's. Apparently they had a date that Mikey didn't know about."

"Is that the kid who looked like a lesbian until he grew a beard?"

Gerard laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You know," Bob says, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head, "your store used to sort of freak me out a little bit. Everyone just standing around and staring like I'm some kind of freak."

Gerard laughs again, but more gently this time. He puts a hand on Bob's arm--nice, firm drummer arms _guh_\--and assures him, "No, everybody stares because they think you're hot. Not freakish. That's why they stare at me."

"No, it's because you're so pretty," Bob says and immediately looks away, a dark pink blush spreading across his cheeks above his beard. "I mean, you know, as a guy, not like I thought you were a lesbian until you grew a beard like what's his name."

Now Gerard worries that he's blushing too, but he can't think of anything else to say except, "Thank you."

"Your store is really gay," says Bob in a such contemplative tone that makes it impossible for Gerard to take offense.

"That's what makes it awesome," he says agreeably. "But I'll make them stop staring at you if you want."

"Eh. I've gotten used to it now."

"I'm not sure I could make them stop anyway," Gerard confides with a shrug. "Maybe Spencer if he's as into my brother as I suspect he is. Nobody who works and goes to school has enough free time to watch as many movies as Spencer rents from Mikey's store."

"So if Mikey has the car, you'll need a ride home," says Bob, bringing the conversation back to where it started.

"Yes." Gerard answers even though it's not really a question. He glances at his watch. "The last bus ran twenty minutes ago."

"I'll be glad to take you." Bob reaches out and curves one hand around Gerard's hip, pulling him around to stand between Bob's spread knees, intimate but still giving Gerard space if he wants it. "That way I'll know where to pick you up next time."

Gerard beams at Bob as he leans in and says in a confidential tone, "I really like the sound of that."

Bob leans forward until their lips brush lightly. He watches Gerard carefully before closing the distance again and kissing him more firmly. Gerard's mouth falls open and he's kissing back, his hands gripping Bob's shoulders tightly. A loud whoop of laughter from the other side of the room makes them stop and look around, but nobody seems to be paying any attention to them.

 

Frank climbs up on a table and announces, "Hey, motherfuckers, listen up." After people stop yelling and throwing empty plastic cups and various snack foods at him, he continues (with a small pretzel in his hair), "As my new band--shut up, Mark, I fucking said I was fucking sorry already--all of you and your assorted girlfriends and boyfriends are invited to my birthday party on Halloween. Wear a costume and bring some booze. Or candy, if you don't drink." He doesn't look at Gerard as he says that last bit, which makes Gerard oddly happy. "7 o'clock at my place. My address is on the bulletin board over there."

Gerard looks over and sees a big black construction paper bat with white writing on it. He laughs and turns back around to face Bob, still standing between his knees. "He wants me to go as Edward Scissorhands. Every year, he wants me to go as Edward Scissorhands, but I never have."

"You could pull it off." Bob runs his fingers through Gerard's hair and it's all Gerard can do not to close his eyes and moan. If there weren't fifteen other people in the room, he'd so climb onto Bob's lap right now and have his wicked way with him.

He has to clear his throat before he can speak and his voice still sounds off. "I was thinking of going in drag, just to see his face."

Bob stares at Gerard for a long moment before dragging his gaze down Gerard's body and then slowly up again. He makes a guttural noise in the back of his throat and blinks. "That would...holy fuck, yeah. That would work too."

That reaction just from the _idea_ makes up Gerard's mind for him. He may even have the outfit he wore once as an experiment in art school in the back of his closet. It might be tighter now, but as long as he can squeeze his ass into it, it ought to work. And he couldn't care less about Frank's face now.

 

***

Mikey wakes up very slowly on Spencer's couch, feeling almost hung over even though he didn't drink. Spencer is still asleep, his face smushed against Mikey's chest and his hands curled around the small of Mikey's back under his shirt. They're both fully dressed except Mikey did kick off his shoes and take off his hoodie at some point.

Mikey lifts his head and one arm carefully, watching to see if Spencer is waking up, but Spencer doesn't do anything but push his face harder against Mikey's chest, rubbing his nose against the bunched up fabric of Mikey's t-shirt. Mikey reaches out and snags his glasses and cellphone from the coffee table so he can see what time it is.

6 a.m. Fuck that. He puts his glasses and phone back on the table, wraps his arms around Spencer, and goes back to sleep.

The next time he wakes up, Mikey is face down on the couch and Spencer is nowhere to be seen. Mikey fumbles with his glasses, almost poking himself in the eye before he gets them on. It's almost 9:30 and his phone is pinging with a new text message. He picks it up and finally punches the right keys, then squints at Gee's text: _r u ok? u better not b dead! call me_.

Instead of calling, Mikey texts back: _Im ok. Will talk to you later_. He debates adding more but Spencer steps out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a black button up shirt. His hair is damp and falling across his forehead, and Mikey really wants to kiss him. He doesn't, though, because his mouth feels kind of nasty and he doesn't want to gross out Spencer so early in their...whatever this is. As if he can read Mikey's mind, Spencer says, "There's an extra toothbrush on the counter if you want it. I don't, like...make a habit of having people over or anything. It's just my mom sends me these care packages so I've got, like, ten toothbrushes at any given time."

"No, that's cool," says Mikey, getting up off the couch and stretching his entire body until his joints pop. He takes note of the hungry way Spencer watches the arch of his back, the way his shirt slides up and bares his stomach, even the stretch of Mikey's arms up over his head. Mikey twists his shoulders and cracks his neck, and smiles a little. "I'll just go use it so I can kiss you again."

Spencer's eyes widen briefly and he smiles, then steps back and waves at the open doorway. "Be my guest. _Please_."

Mikey gives him a closed mouth peck on the cheek as he passes by, and he feels Spencer's hand brush against his ass.

 

When Mikey comes out of the bathroom a couple minutes later all minty fresh, Spencer is still standing right where Mikey left him, kind of hovering between the bathroom door and the door to his bedroom. The look on his face is unreadable, so Mikey doesn't try. He just pushes Spencer up against the wall and kisses him, hands clamped tight on Spencer's hips, feet bracketing Spencer's as if he's holding him place, but Mikey knows that Spencer could get away if he wanted.

The way Spencer is twisting his hands in the back of Mikey's shirt makes him think Spencer doesn't want to go anywhere. He's pulling Mikey closer until they're pressed all up against each other, Spencer's hardening cock pushing against Mikey's as he arches his hips away from the wall. Spencer's mouth is almost frantic on Mikey's and it's much hotter than the softer, slower making out they did last night. This is kissing that will have a very different outcome, and Mikey groans with frustration when Spencer pulls away slightly and raises his wrist--his hand still tangled in Mikey's shirt so he drags the fabric all the way up to Mikey's shoulder as he looks at his watch. Mikey shivers as cool air hits his heated skin.

"Ah, shit, I'm supposed to be on campus for this study group thing at ten," says Spencer, nipping at Mikey's jaw with every third word. He releases Mikey's shirt and smooths it out over Mikey's back. When his hand goes low enough to hit the waistband of Mikey's boxerbriefs peeking out the top of his jeans, Spencer says, "Fuck it, I can be late."

Then he goes back to kissing Mikey while he pushes at Mikey's shoulders, walking him back through the doorway into his bedroom. Spencer's mouth is hot, his tongue insistent, and when Mikey's back hits the mattress, he opens to Spencer, unfolding and spreading his legs, and pulls Spencer down on top of him. Spencer groans at Mikey's blatant invitation. "_Fuck_. Not enough time. I'm gonna just--" Spencer thrusts hard against Mikey and licks at his mouth, "ah, blow you now. 'S that okay?"

"Fuck yeah," Mikey says, fervently pushing at Spencer's shoulder with one hand while he fumbles open the fly of his jeans with the other. The back of his hand brushes against Spencer's cock and Mikey wishes they had time to get naked, but Spencer doesn't seem to want to wait that long. He's shoving Mikey's hand away and working his jeans and underwear down with a couple of swift tugs, and then his mouth is on Mikey's dick.

He doesn't tease and lick and work up to it, just goes right down and swallows, and Mikey arches so hard into it that he nearly bucks Spencer off him. Spencer grabs Mikey's hips and pushes them into the mattress and holds him there, pinned to the bed while Spencer sucks him off like a fucking expert and all Mikey can do is clutch at Spencer's shoulders and try not to come embarrassingly fast. He has never been held down like this during a blowjob before, and he had no idea it would turn him on so much. He feels like he's about to burst into flame and his heart is thundering like a freight train in his chest.

When he can't hold back any longer, he flails a hand and accidentally clips Spencer on the ear as he tries to warn him. "Spencer... Spence. Oh."

And then it's too late, and he's coming and Spencer's swallowing with a pleased little hum in the back of his throat and holy fuck, that might be even hotter than having Spencer's strong hands shoving his hips into the mattress hard enough to maybe leave bruises. Mikey closes his eyes and remembers when it took drugs to get him this high. He's just about flying.

Spencer straddles Mikey's hips and shoves up Mikey's t-shirt while he rips at his own clothes, tossing his shirt away and getting his cock out of his pants while he stares down at Mikey. He holds out his hand and Mikey licks it until it's wet, and then Spencer wraps his hand around his cock and starts talking with every stroke, low ardent words that fall almost-helplessly from his mouth.

"Mikey, fuck, _fuck_, you're so hot, I wanna--" He cuts himself off with a breathless little grunt and twists his wrist. "Need more t-time, hours and hours, so I can, umm fuck, what do you want?"

Mikey drags his mesmerized gaze away from Spencer's hand working his cock and blinks up at him. "Hm? Whatever. You can fuck me."

"But do you _want_ it?" Spencer's eyes are intense and his voice is deep and scratchy, and Mikey finds himself just nodding, unable to speak. "Oh, _good_," Spencer groans and comes onto Mikey's belly.

After a moment where he just kind of hangs above Mikey and tries to catch his breath, Spencer slips off to the side and collapses on his back. "I'll, uh, I'll get you a towel or something."

Mikey turns his head toward Spencer and smiles. He doesn't move when Spencer gets up and fixes his own clothes before coming back with a damp washcloth. He cleans off Mikey and presses his open mouth to Mikey's stomach, his tongue darting out for a quick lick, then pulls his shirt down and fixes his underwear and pants.

"I can't believe we did that before coffee," says Mikey, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. "I don't do _anything_ before coffee."

"Well, I'm gonna be late anyway. I guess there's time to hit Starbucks. There's one between here and campus."

"I'll meet you there." Mikey stands up and cradles Spencer's face, petting his beard with his fingertips as he leans in and gently kisses Spencer's mouth.

He just had sex--really awesome, if way too hurried, sex--with Spencer Smith, and he never even took off his glasses. Yeah, he definitely needs some fucking coffee.

***

Gerard calls Mikey again as he's leaving Starbucks, so he waves goodbye to Spencer and goes back inside to order a couple coffees to go. He drives over to the house and clutches the cups against his chest with one hand as he lets himself into the basement, where Gerard has left the door unlocked for him.

Standing in front of an easel with a familiar canvas, Gerard greets Mikey absently with a paintbrush clenched between his teeth. There's a smudge of grey paint on his cheek and a blob of red on his nose, and his hair is standing up in crazy spikes like he's been running his hands through it relentlessly. He's tilting his head first one way and then the next, eyes narrowed in concentration. Mikey leaves him to it for a minute or two and then waves the coffee under his nose without ever looking at the canvas. He knows Gerard's not ready for him to see it yet, and he respects Gee's wishes. He's actually come to enjoy the suspense.

Gerard sniffs deeply and says, "Oh, hey. I guess I can take a break." He takes a long life-giving drink of coffee and sighs. "You're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother," says Mikey, throwing himself onto the couch in front of the tv.

He picks up the remote to turn it on, but Gerard grabs it out of his hand and says, "No, talk to me instead. What happened last night?" He sips his coffee and watches Mikey over the rim of the cup.

"Spencer's got this awesome old couch, it's not long but it's really wide-- _What_?"

"Are we...are we talking about his actual furniture? Or his--"

"Fuck you, no. I mean his actual furniture. We fell asleep together. That's why I was still there this morning when you texted me." Mikey twitches one knee back and forth then up and down to a rhythm that only lives in his head. He gulps down his coffee and thinks maybe he should eat something before the day's out. Gerard is still just watching him expectantly, so he explains about Brendon and Jon cancelling and leaving him alone with Spencer. "It started out awkward but ended up all right." And really, Mikey knows he's given to understatement sometimes, giving people who don't know him well the impression that he doesn't get excited about anything, but it was really so much more than just all right. He's already looking forward to seeing Spencer again and he just left him less than an hour ago.

"You're gonna tell me the details anyway. Why waste time?" Gerard pokes him in the arm until Mikey swats at him, then he laughs. "Come on. Was it horrible?"

"No." Mikey doesn't actually want to talk about it right now, while he's all relaxed and sated. But he also knows Gerard will not give up easily.

"You spent the night with him, and..." says Gerard teasingly.

"We didn't...you don't need the details."

"Okay, okay. Well, do you want to hear about my night instead?"

"Was the band good?"

"Yeah."

"That's enough," says Mikey, knocking his knee against Gerard's.

"Frank played with them." Gerard bumps Mikey back and settles more deeply into the cushions of the couch. "He's really good but a little crazy. He kicked the bassist and almost knocked over part of Bob's kit."

"Yeah, I've seen him play."

"When?"

"His old band used to open for Bert--" Mikey breaks off because Gerard's ex is one thing they do not talk about. Ever. "Anyway..."

"It's okay, Mikes. I'm not going to fall apart at the sound of his name." Gerard gazes at Mikey with big sincere eyes as he says this, then smiles softly as he contemplatively adds, "You know something? I have a really good feeling about Bob. Even if it doesn't work out or even go anywhere, I think he's gonna be good for me."

"Yeah?" Mikey is intrigued and hopeful, and a little relieved as well. Gerard needs something or someone good in his life. If nothing else, maybe Bob will be the impetus for him to move out of their parents' basement

"He's steady. Bob. Even his name is steady, strong, and he's _organized_. I could use someone like that in my life. He let me help break down and load up their equipment. It was...I really liked feeling a part of something." Gerard drifts off and hums under his breath for a minute, and Mikey lets him. "Yeah, I think it'll be beneficial for me, but I don't know what Bob will get out of it. Maybe awesome blowjobs."

"Gee, don't say that shit to me. Maintain the mystique." Mikey can't help but smile when he thinks of this morning. "You're probably not as good as Spencer anyway."

"I thought you just 'fell asleep'--" Gerard actually made air quotes "--on his awesome couch."

"Well, yeah, but that was last night. This morning on the other hand..."

Gerard smacks him in the chest with the back of his hand. "I don't believe you sometimes."

Mikey doesn't have to ask what he means. He just grins at how happy Gerard looks. Happy for Mikey, happy for himself, it's all the same. Because no matter how much shit they give each other, Mikey's closer to Gerard than anyone else in the world, and it's the same for Gerard.

"When are you seeing him again?"

"When are you seeing Bob?" Mikey shoots back quickly.

"I asked first."

"Childish."

"But I did." Gerard tries to stare him down, even though Mikey's won every staring contest they've had since he was ten. It's equal parts funny and pathetic, and Mikey is feeling generous.

"Tomorrow night," Mikey answers with a fake put-upon sigh. "We're going to see Gabe's band. You should come check them out. Apparently they have a keytar player. That ought to be worth the price of admission."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss that," Gerard says seriously. "But I'll have to. Bob and I are going to a movie."

"A movie?" Mikey can't hide his skepticism.

"We're going to the late show. I couldn't say no since he felt so guilty about our date being in a bar. I told him it was okay, but still."

"So you told him."

"Yeah, I had to get it out there." Gerard leans forward and scrabbles through the accumulated crap on the table until he finds a pack of Marlboro Lights. He lights one with the lighter he pulls out of Mikey's pocket, and collapses back into a relaxed sprawl. "I didn't go into all the gory details. I don't think either of us are ready for that."

"He was cool about it." It isn't a question because Mikey had already known that Bob wouldn't get weird about Gerard's addictions. Or worse, get weird about his recovery, like Bert did.

"He actually said he was impressed I've stayed clean and sober for so long." Gerard has a dopey grin on his face, and Mikey just shakes his head. Gerard has it so bad. It's kind of funny but Mikey won't laugh because it's so nice to see Gerard happy for a change. Mikey would never admit it out loud, but he worries about Gerard so much it's almost like he's the big brother sometimes.

"Told you Bob's a good guy," is all Mikey says, as he tips his head over onto Gerard's shoulder and steals the remote back.


	4. protective!Mikey, a creepy customer, and Gabe

William comes out of the office with a printout in his hand and finds Jon and Brendon behind the photo counter with their heads tilted together, talking in intimate little not-quite-whispers. "Get a room, guys."

"We tried but your mom was already booked," says Brendon with a fake apologetic expression. He looks at Jon for confirmation. "I think there were some sailors in town."

"Nice. Mom jokes this early in the morning. You might want to pace yourself," William says dryly, manfully ignoring the way Jon is snickering in the background. "_Anyway_. Guess who did sixty-nine percent in the red zone yesterday?"

Brendon looks like he's going to make another (dirty) joke, but then, "Actually, that is pretty good. What's it usually--between thirty and forty?"

"That's right, bitches, bow before the master."

"Didn't Vicky-T close last night?" Jon asks casually, as if he doesn't know the answer.

"Didn't you hear? Brent was no-call no-show. She had to go up front." William just shrugs and tries not to look too smug as he makes a shooing motion at the other boys. "You can go back to your PDA now."

"We were just talking."

"Talking with intent." William gives them both a slow, filthy smile that he's sure leaves no doubt what he means.

Now it's Brendon's turn to roll his eyes. "Shouldn't you be flirting with customers and letting them put lip gloss on you?"

"That was one time, and she ended up buying a crapload of makeup and hair stuff. I made about twenty-five bucks in PMs off her."

Brendon looks suitably impressed--and he should since front register gets between a nickel and twenty cents a piece on their suggestive sell items-- which makes William feel even more like a rock star. He likes this store. They have easy standards to surpass.

"Are you two going to Frank's party?"

"Sure," says Jon, and Brendon nods enthusiastically. "Just about everybody does."

"Are the costumes really necessary?" William hates masks and isn't really into the idea of dressing up anyway.

"Well, yeah, that's the best part," says Brendon, as if William is somehow the crazy one.

"He will withhold liquor, so if you want to drink, you better make some sort of effort," Jon says sympathetically, but then he looks at William carefully. "I suggest princess."

"Oh my God, yeah! You would rock a tiara," adds Brendon, his eyes big and shining as he skims down the length of William's legs. "And you'd look great in a short skirt."

"I am not a girl." William does not grit his teeth or curl his empty hand into a fist, but it's a close thing.

"So? It's Halloween. The perfect time to get in touch with your inner princess."

"Or your outer one," Jon says and then as if he realizes he's being a bitch for no good reason, he adds, "But hey, if you don't drink, you can bring candy and it's cool. Frank will make sad faces at you, though, so it's not really worth it."

"I'll think about it." William walks away, secure in his manhood.

***

Gerard is not at work when Bob comes in on Monday afternoon. Brendon's on the front register and barely gives him a glance as he pages the Brinks code then goes back to chatting with the customer he's checking out. Jon is in the photo lab, and he looks up briefly and says "hey, how's it going?", but then goes back to his work. It's like they've been replaced by professionals, and it's making Bob wonder what the hell's going on.

Nobody is hanging out around the office door when Zack comes to let him in, and it all starts to make sense when he sees the note on the bulletin board beside the time clock. It's a handwritten message on white copy paper that says _Please do not sexually harass or otherwise bother the Brinks guards or other vendors. It's not cool to make them uncomfortable. _ There are little doodles all around the edges of the paper, little people and dogs and a jack-o-lantern for some reason. One of them looks like Bob with his gun in his hand, which is kind of weird because Bob has never drawn his weapon in the line of duty.

Zack shrugs and says, "I do _not_ want to know. Really. Don't tell me."

Bob nods and tries to look like he has no idea either, but when Zack's back is turned, Bob rips off the bottom edge of the paper, leaving the note but taking some of the drawings. He folds it into his pants pocket and goes to do his job.

When he leaves, he finally notices that beside Gerard's note, there's an invitation to Frank's birthday/Halloween party. That gets him thinking about Gerard and his costume, and he's so distracted that he's almost out the door before he radios the truck to let them know he's leaving.

 

***

Pete lets himself in to the office just as Mr. Hall shakes Patrick's hand and says, "It's been good working with you. We'll miss you."

Pete feels his whole body go cold and he can barely focus on Patrick's quiet little smile, which ordinarily enthralls him to the extent that it would be embarrassing if he had any shame left where Patrick is concerned. "Wait. What? You're leaving? What?" He seriously can't get a grip on this. Patrick can't just leave.

"I'm just going across town to the new store," says Patrick with a tilt of his head and some eyebrow action for Mr. Hall.

"Yeah, I have to go...count a drawer or something." He leaves with a significant look for Pete that means 'remember you are still in the workplace and I can fire your ass.' Mr. Hall can pack a lot into a look, and Pete is so used to the silent lectures that he just takes it in stride.

Patrick just stands there staring at Pete, until the realization of what this actually means hits him. His grin grows until it's probably demented. "Dude, you know what this means? You can totally date me now."

"You're assuming I'd want to." Patrick's voice is even but there's a weird twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"But you..." Pete's heart actually stutters in his chest. "That's been your excuse all this time."

"Yeah, well, you know..." Patrick glances away and when he looks back, he's smiling, his eyes glittering behind his glasses. "I guess we could give it a try."

Pete throws his arms around Patrick and holds on tight for a long moment, digging his chin into Patrick's shoulder as Patrick's arms slowly come up around him. "You're gonna love me one day, Patrick Stump. You just wait and see."

"Yeah." Patrick rubs his hand across Pete's back and sighs. "Yeah, okay."

***

 

The ragged strip of paper with Gerard's drawings on it burns a hole in Bob's pocket all afternoon, an insubstantial weight that he can't ignore, a constant reminder of Gerard. Gerard's face is at the forefront of his mind--his tiny teeth and big eyes and little pointy nose that combine to make him sound like a woodland creature on paper, but go together to make a surprisingly _pretty_ guy, and Bob has never really gone for delicate, but Gerard is surprisingly strong for all his outward softness. And then there's the crooked mouth and ink-stained fingers and passion that has nothing to do with sex, or at least not completely. He groans quietly when they pull up at their last stop of the day and he glances out the tiny window at the video store where Gerard's brother works. The other two guards in the back of the truck look at him curiously, but he ignores them.

He picks up his satchel and steps out, the door locking behind him sounding impossibly loud. As soon as he steps through the door, Mikey shows up and leads him to the tiny office in the back of the store. Neither say anything until the door closes behind them, and then Mikey pulls out his keys but instead of opening the safe, he just jingles them, long fingers twitching and clasping with nervous energy.

"Gerard," Mikey says, and it's an entire sentence, not just the start of one. Bob understands how this is possible, because Gerard...Gerard encompasses a lot of things, many of them contradictory, in ways that Bob doesn't know him well enough to understand even if he does recognize them. The way he's confident one minute and awkward the next, sincere but kind of goofy, clever but occasionally clueless, kisses like an angel afraid Bob's going to shove him away at any moment. He's a mystery that might be easy to solve if Bob just has enough time.

"Yeah." Bob nods and opens his bag, pulling out his paperwork and trying to put them back on a professional footing. And it works for the couple of minutes it takes for Bob to make his pickup and Mikey to sign off on it. But before he can leave, Mikey puts one hand on Bob's wrist and Bob freezes.

"Would you laugh in my face if I said I'll kill you if you hurt him?" Mikey is dead serious, but Bob detects a twinkle that lets him know Mikey knows he's being ridiculous, because Mikey is probably the least threatening person in the world. But this is important enough to overcome any ridiculousness or potential embarrassment. "It's not that I don't like you. I do. I even trust you to some extent, but this is Gerard."

"Yeah, it is. But what if he hurts me?" Bob says, as equally serious.

"I'll kick his ass," Mikey assures him, and Bob almost believes it, at least a little. "But he's been through some shit. More than his share."

"I know." Bob tightens his grip on his satchel and pulls away from Mikey.

"Not all of it. You don't know. You can't," Mikey says quietly. "Just... if it doesn't work out, go easy on him, don't crush him just because you can. That's all I'm saying."

"Yeah, I'll make a note of that," Bob says, and he's not trying to be a dick but if it sounds that way he doesn't care much. He has no intention of hurting Gerard, and thinks if anyone's heart is likely to get broken it'll be his. He gives too much of himself in his own weird and subtle way, he knows and Ray tells him over and over, but he can't stop doing it.

Mikey cracks the smallest of smiles as he opens the door, but doesn't say anything else. He just swings his keys around one finger and watches Bob with speculation. For the first time ever, Bob fumbles with his radio as he calls the truck. He hopes nobody notices, but he can feel Gabe staring at him from behind the counter. It's not the kind of staring he used to get next door, but it's odd and knowing and he imagines he can feel the grin hiding behind Gabe's carefully blank features. Bob ignores him and steps out into the fading light of late afternoon.

***

On warehouse day, Frank asks Jon to go to the stock room and get him some more totes, so Jon pushes a stack of empty totes onto a hand truck and rolls it to the stock room. He adds the empties to a stack against the wall, then pushes the hand truck down the aisle between the bays where the totes have been sorted into stacks according to department. He finds the last ones for the candy aisle and starts to load them up to take to Frank, when the door opens and Brendon comes in pushing an empty cart.

As Brendon maneuvers the cart around a pallet of soda twelve-packs, a wheel catches on a corner of the pallet and he bangs his hip into the handle of the cart. "Fuck, that hurt," he says emphatically enough to make Jon stop what he's doing and walk over there. Brendon gives him a pitiful look and bites at his lower lip. "Wanna kiss it and make it better?"

"Not at work," Jon says as if Brendon made a joke, but he glances around to make sure they are, in fact, alone and brushes one fingertip along Brendon's lower lip, pushing lightly where his teeth dug in. He really wants to kiss him right now, even though they are at work and anyone could walk in--maybe especially because of that, which is weird because Jon's never been that kind of risk taker. Brendon has a mouth made for kissing and all kinds of other dirty-delicious things, but Jon forces his thoughts to go no further than kissing right now because he has to go and see Frank in about two minutes and Frank will _know_. Somehow. He always does. "Tonight, though? I'm all over it."

"That..." Brendon pauses and looks down at himself. "Makes me feel better?" He groans a little and adds, "Fuck me, I don't get off until seven."

"Yeah, that's what I had planned for 7:30." Jon turns around and goes back to his hand truck and the stack of totes he came to get. He ignores the quiet cursing behind him.

***

Brendon is covering Frank's lunch when a customer comes up and puts his stuff on the counter. Brendon greets him absently, and the man says, "Hi, Brendon" while intently staring at the name tag on Brendon's chest.

Brendon doesn't think too much about it because sometimes people do that for whatever reason. He just keeps his head down and scans the bags of Halloween candy, soap, light bulbs, and hand lotion the guy is buying. Then the guy says, "I really like your glasses."

Brendon looks up at that to find the guy kind of leaning into the counter, and the man is nearly a foot taller than Brendon so he's looming over him. He's also nearly old enough to be Brendon's dad and he smells funny--not like the usual unwashed funk of most stinky customers but some kind of weird mediciney-herbal smell that makes Brendon want to hold his breath forever. He leans back a little while trying not to look like that's what he's doing. "Your eyes are really pretty, Brendon," the guy says, putting a slight emphasis on his name.

"Um, thanks. That'll be 26.79." Brendon doesn't even try to smile politely because he's afraid to give the guy any encouragement.

The guy hands over thirty in cash, and as Brendon hands him his change and receipt, he touches Brendon's fingers unnecessarily and says, "Thanks, Brendon, you have a _good_ day."

Brendon, imagining himself as Ryan Ross, says as robotically as possible, "Yeah, you too." Then he steps back all the way to the cigarette case and checks for which brands need restocking. He can feel the guy still staring at him. If Brendon keeps one hand close to the boxcutter clipped onto his pants pocket, then he feels that's just caution not paranoia. After an uncomfortable moment that seems to go on for far longer than it logically does, the guy takes his bags and leaves, and Brendon grabs the hand sanitizer and gives it a couple healthy pumps. He's still scrubbing at his hands when Jon walks up with a little notepad.

"I'm making a Starbucks run. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, a hot shower and a vacation away from this place." Brendon checks his pockets to see how much money he's got on him and hands Jon a crumpled bill. "But in lieu of that, I'll take my usual."

"Cake in a cup for Bden," says Jon teasingly, as he adds it to his list. Then he looks at Brendon carefully and glances at the door the creepy customer just left through. "Seriously, though, you okay?"

"Oh yeah, of course," Brendon scoffs, fighting back an instinctive shudder. "Creepy old guys ineptly trying to hit on me is just the price of being irresistible."

"Well, you are that," says Jon seriously, then grins like the big dork that he is. Brendon feels about a million times less dirty.

 

***

One night, Ryan drags Spencer out to a club even though he has class the next day, but his protests that he should be studying fall on deaf ears. All Ryan will say is, "We haven't spent any time together lately, Spence." Which makes Spencer fold like a house of cards in a wind tunnel.

He finds himself standing by a wall near the bar nursing a beer so slowly it's turning warm and gross before it's even half gone, and feeling kind of guilty that he told Mikey he'd be staying in to study tonight. He worries that Mikey might show up here and then think Spencer lied about studying because he didn't want to see Mikey which couldn't be farther from the truth. Ryan had spent a grand total of twelve minutes--Spencer checked his watch out of curiosity-- actually talking to Spencer before disappearing into the throng on the dance floor.

Even the music is annoying him. The DJ seems to play two stupid songs for every cool one.

"Spencer!" a jovial voice calls out right next to his ear, and Spencer turns to see Gabe from Mikey's store and his friend Alex standing there wearing matching manic grins. "'Sup, dude? You and Mikey not attached at the hip yet?"

"No." Spencer gives him a withering look and turns to Alex. "Hey, how's it going? Haven't see you in a while."

"Yeah, been busy. You know how it goes," Alex says, but he looks like he's trying not to laugh at Spencer's attempt to ignore Gabe. Nobody ignores Gabe for long.

Case in point. Gabe wraps an arm around Spencer's neck and says, "Come on, what's wrong? The romance over already?"

"No. I was supposed to stay home and study tonight and then my best friend made me come here with him." Gabe looks around, and Spencer adds, "He's on the dance floor. Hey, can you, uh, not tell Mikey that I was here? I don't want him to think I was lying about my plans. They just changed at the last minute."

Practically swearing Gabe to secrecy makes Spencer feel a little stupid and like a teenager again, a feeling he hates more than anything. But Gabe just laughs and says, "No problem. I'm just glad to see him happy again. He goes around smiling these days. It's kinda freaking out the regular customers. He was one mopey motherfucker after he broke up with Pete, and then he was all--" Gabe waves a hand to describe the seemingly indescribable. "--you know, _Mikey_."

"I'm going to get another drink," interrupts Alex before wandering off.

Spencer barely hears him because, "Pete? Not Pete Wentz from my store Pete?

"Yeah, he's a pretty memorable Pete. As Petes go."

"Him and Mikey? For real?" Spencer has a hard time wrapping his head around that one. Loud, brash Pete and quiet, understated Mikey--maybe opposites really do attract.

"Dude, it was very real. But that was a few years ago. You probably weren't working there yet. They've both moved on and they're still friends. It's totally cool now."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed because he knew the two men were friends. He'd always found it a little strange but then Mikey seemed to be friends with just about everybody, so maybe it wasn't too odd. Knowing all this didn't stop the little spike of jealousy in Spencer's gut.

But mostly, talking about Mikey just made Spencer wish he was with him instead of here talking to Gabe and watching Ryan dance with a succession of blondes. He pulls out his phone without really thinking about it, and Gabe gives him a knowing look. "Yeah, I think I need to go show these honeys my moves."

Spencer waits until Gabe has disappeared into the crowd then sets his beer aside, and texts Mikey to ask what he's doing. It takes a few minutes for Mikey to text back with: _Watching a shitty band. Srsly, these guys suck. You still studying?_

_Ryan made me go out. Talked to Gabe for 5 mins. Bored now._ So apparently, he swore Gabe to secrecy for nothing because he's spilling his guts to Mikey the first chance he gets. Before he gives himself time to talk himself out of it, he sends another text: _Was thinking of ditching Ry &amp; coming to find you instead. If that's ok._

He goes to the restroom to kill time while waiting for Mikey to text him back. After he's peed and washed his hands thoroughly, he's actually considering going outside and walking around the parking lot to burn off nervous energy when his phone finally pings. _ttly ok. Save me from this shitty band. Your place?_

Spencer texts back, _Give me 20 min to get there_ and he's already on his way to find Ryan. He expects an argument, but the tall girl currently wrapping herself around Ryan immediately offers to drive him home, which is actually Jon's place because that's where he's staying this week after he and Spencer decided that they could only be roommates for no more than five days at a time if they wanted to preserve their friendship, and Ryan still hasn't found a place that he likes yet. So, problem solved.

He's just getting into his car when Mikey's text _see you then_ finally arrives. Spencer breathes a sigh of relief and drives to his apartment with a weird sense of heightened perception. Anticipation makes the lights brighter and the cars in front of him slower. He rolls right through the stop sign at the end of his street and it's only dumb luck that there're no cops around because he sure as hell wasn't paying attention.

He's just unlocking the door to his apartment when he sees Mikey's car pull up, so he waits for him on the doorstep with a slight tremor in his hands. Mikey's smiling when he walks up, so Spencer smiles back and they step inside and as soon as the door closes, Mikey's hands are in his hair and Mikey's kissing him, all slow and smooth like they've been doing it for years. After a few endless moments, Spencer pulls back and, whoa, when did his fingers get hooked inside Mikey's waistband? Mikey opens his eyes slowly and Spencer drops a quick kiss to his lips before saying, "Do you have anywhere else to be?"

"Um." Mikey blinks at him and appears to think it over. "Not until noon tomorrow."

Spencer glances at his watch and nods. His first class is at eleven, so...yep, twelve hours ought to do it.

Mikey watches him expectantly for a moment, maybe a little amused, then says, "Yeah, okay, let's go." And then he puts his hands on Spencer's hips and pushes Spencer gently toward his bedroom.

If Spencer had thought that Mikey was a little passive the last time, he's totally different this time around. Mikey's got him stripped and flat on his back before Spencer can do much more than shove Mikey's shirt up and get his pants open. Mikey takes his glasses off and puts them on the bedside table, then sucks a kiss at the base of Spencer's throat before getting his own clothes off.

And then, Mikey's naked and lowering himself to press all against Spencer, who is also naked and holy fuck, all that bare skin rubbing together feels fantastic. As he wraps his arms around Mikey, Spencer could kick himself for missing out on this last time and vows that if the choice between a boring study group or naked Mikey comes up again, he's choosing naked Mikey. Mikey rubs his face against Spencer's shoulder and then mouths along Spencer's neck, and Spencer is already so hard it nearly hurts.

Spencer buries one hand in Mikey's hair and urges his head up so he can get at Mikey's mouth and after they kiss a little urgently for a while, he bites at Mikey's jaw and says, "What do you want to do?"

Mikey moves his hips, shoving his erection against Spencer's, and they both shudder at the sensation. Spencer thinks maybe neither one of them will last long enough for anything very complicated. Mikey seems to be reading his mind because he says, "Like this first? Then later you can fuck me."

"Or you could fuck me," Spencer offers because he can go either way. He would _love_ to go either way with Mikey. Mikey's eyes widen a bit and Spencer realizes he said that last bit out loud. "Um, I mean."

"Now I have to," Mikey mutters intently, skimming one hand down Spencer's side and pressing his thumb into Spencer's hip and curving his fingers into the side of his ass. "I don't want to wait either. Okay?"

Spencer spreads his legs a little and arches into Mikey, his hands wrapped around Mikey's biceps "So fucking okay, yeah. Yeah." He motions to the right with his head and adds, "Top drawer."

"Patience," Mikey says with a little smile playing over his reddened lips. He gets the supplies from the nightstand drawer, but just lays them on the bed as he moves back to press kisses down the center of Spencer's chest, taking a little detour to suck on each nipple in turn, before moving down his stomach. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh below Spencer's navel, and Spencer thinks about being self-conscious about his less than perfect body for about half a second, but then Mikey's licking up the underside of his cock and taking the head in his mouth and pretty much the only thought Spencer is capable of is _fuck yes_ and _more please_ and also _Mikey_. He vocalizes all these thoughts and probably more that he's not even aware of as Mikey sets about turning him inside out.

At some point, Mikey must have grabbed the lube because he's pushing his slick fingers in, and Spencer is so caught up in Mikey's mouth that he doesn't tense up as he sometimes does at the first touch. He just pulls his knees up and lets them fall open, and he's not exactly comfortable but so doesn't care, because Mikey murmurs his approval and adds another finger. He pulls his mouth off Spencer's cock and picks up one of Spencer's hands and wraps it around his cock. Then he leans back and puts the condom on himself, adding more lube to both of them with a look of concentration that makes Spencer's heart thud in his chest.

"Okay, ready?" Mikey asks and Spencer barely has time to nod before Mikey's pushing in, and then he couldn't speak if he wanted to. Mikey gives a few gentle, experimental thrusts before frowning and adjusting Spencer's hips a little, shoving the extra pillow underneath, and then he pulls almost out and pushes back in harder. He watches Spencer carefully and says, "Okay?"

"Yes, yes, just--" Spencer shoves his hips up to meet Mikey's thrust and says, "Give it to me."

Mikey laughs and Spencer snickers a little too, because yeah, that was cheesy but fuck if he didn't mean it. But then the laughter dies and Mikey's eyes narrow and his mouth tightens and he just goes for it, as hard and fast as the position allows and Spencer wants to watch but his eyes slide closed of their own accord and his hand on his cock picks up Mikey's rhythm and, already primed by Mikey's blowjob, just a few minutes in and he's already coming. He gasps and shudders and digs his free hand into Mikey's shoulder as pleasure washes over him, hot and bright.

Mikey keeps going for another a few minutes and Spencer pets every part of Mikey that he can reach. When his fingers skim down Mikey's cheek, Mikey turns his head slightly and takes them into his mouth. He sucks hard as he pushes into Spencer and just holds there, moaning around Spencer's fingers as he comes.

Spencer knows he's seen things hotter than that, but he can't think of any at the moment.

***

Ryan wakes up to blessed silence. It's his favorite way to wake up, especially since he's been staying with Jon after he and Brendon got together. After a couple of minutes of trying to decide if he can go back to sleep or if he should get up and continue his apartment search, he picks up the scent of coffee and that makes the decision for him. He sits up on the couch and throws off his blanket, then slowly shuffles over to the kitchen. He puts his hand over his eyes before he steps inside and says, "If anybody's naked in here, there's going to be bloodshed."

"It's just me, so I think we're safe," says Jon's roommate. Ryan opens his eyes to see a cup of coffee being offered.

"Tom Conrad, I could kiss you," Ryan says, a bit overdramatically, he admits to himself. He takes the coffee and inhales the wonderful scent before taking a sip.

"That won't be necessary." Tom laughs a little awkwardly and lights a cigarette, as he sits back down at the tiny dining table. He's got the newspaper spread out in front of him.

Ryan goes over and sits down in the other chair. He drinks his coffee until it's almost gone and then says, "Seriously, how have you not killed them yet?"

"What?" Tom looks genuinely confused for a moment, and then smiles, his eyes shifting away from Ryan. "Oh. Noise-cancelling headphones. Greatest invention ever."

"I'm surprised anything can cancel out Brendon," Ryan says dryly. "Hey, is that today's paper?"

"Yeah," Tom says, and shifts through the sections. "I'm guessing you want the classifieds."

Ryan glances toward Jon's room and sighs. "Yes, please."


	5. straight!Frank, nervous!Gerard, and satisfied!Bob

William is walking across the parking lot one morning when he notices Frank sitting in a car pulled up next to the building. At least, he's pretty sure that's Frank making out with the really cute dark-haired girl in the driver's seat. His suspicion is confirmed when Frank gets out of the car and says, "See you later, babe."

William looks at him for a long moment as the cute girl drives away. Eventually, Frank frowns and says, "What?"

"I'm just wondering how you ended up with a job at the gayest store on earth," William says, tilting his head contemplatively.

"I'm just too awesome to be pigeonholed," says Frank with a quick grin. "Dudes are awesome for making out with, but when it gets down to doing the deed, I have to go with the ladies."

William laughs a little. "Pete used to tell me something similar before Patrick finally gave in."

"Yeah, but he was lying because there was Mikey before Patrick. Pete has what you might call selective gayness. It sometimes looks an awful lot like obsession." The door is still locked, and Frank peers through the glass. "Think I got time to smoke a cigarette?"

"Probably not," William says, peering through the glass next to Frank.

Frank throws an arm around William's shoulders which are eye level with Frank, so it must be a bit uncomfortable. William wishes he had a picture of this moment because it's also probably pretty damn funny. When William makes the mistake of voicing this thought, Frank scowls and tackles him from the side, his arms going around William's shoulders a second before his legs swing up to circle William's hips. William staggers and his knees buckle before he gets them braced. He somehow manages not to fall over.

"Get off me, you crazy monkey," William splutters through his involuntary laughter, pushing at Frank's hands. "You're heavier than you look."

"And you're stronger than you look," says Frank agreeably as he slides down to plant his feet on the ground. He slumps back against one of the big square trashcans that bracket the doors. "So you ready for another day of people being dicks because we wear name tags and they don't?"

"What are you talking about? My customers love me," William protests, because it's true. He's only been there a few weeks and already he has customers who ask for him by name or at least by description.

"What about that coupon queen who complained to Hurley about you the other day?" Frank has this amused look on his face that makes William really disappointed--for just a split-second, mind you--that Frank's got a girlfriend, because really, the guy's too hot for his own good sometimes. Certainly for William's own good.

"I was not rude to her. I just explained company policy and it wasn't what she wanted to hear." William gets annoyed all over again, but then he glances back toward the parking lot in time to witness a glorious sight.

Gerard Way working a day shift.

William and Frank stand in front of the door--and seriously, where the hell's the opening manager?--and watch Gerard shuffle across the blacktop like a convict walking the last mile. He's wearing huge black sunglasses and clutching at the biggest cup Starbucks sells. The groaning grunt-y sound he makes just enhances the whole zombie thing he's got going on.

Just then Mr. Schechter comes to unlock the doors. He gives Gerard a concerned look and asks, "Are you all right, Gee?"

"What?" Gerard drags his attention away from his coffee and shoves his sunglasses up on top of his head. "Yeah. Yeah, no, I'm not hung over, just sleep-deprived. I stayed up most of the night finishing the cover art for that band you hooked me up with."

"Oh, yeah? How'd it turn out?" Schechter asks, as he turns to go back to the office. "Did you go with the skulls?"

"No, no, that was too cliché," Gerard says, sounding less like the living dead as he follows Schechter. "My design is much cooler. I'll show you tomorrow, if you want to see it."

William exchanges a glance with Frank and trails after them.

***

Frank wanders around the front of the store, nothing to do and bored. He walks out the door and takes a good look around the parking lot. There are only two cars that aren't employees and both of those customers are back in the pharmacy. From the way he's nearly making love to his coffee cup, Gerard must not be too busy either so Frank ambles over in his direction.

"So I'm guessing by the note on the bulletin board that Bob is off-limits now." As opening conversational gambits designed to get a reaction go this is a good one. Gerard sets his coffee down with a shifty look in his eyes and just stops. He's not twitching or biting his fingernails or even shifting from one foot to the other. He's also not quite making eye contact. His gaze is focused somewhere around Frank's left ear, so of course Frank pokes a little harder. "Is he off the market completely then?"

"Um," Gerard answers, shiftiness going up to eleven. "I couldn't say."

"Are you going out with him or not? You were sucking face with him at our show." Frank giggles at Gerard's startled face. "Of course, I saw you. Did you think you were wearing an Invisibility Cloak or something?"

"Well." Gerard's eyes dart to Frank's and then away again. "Yeah. I mean, yes, we're seeing each other, not the Invisibility Cloak thing."

"And you're not shouting this from the rooftops, why?"

"Well," Gerard says again, and for a moment Frank thinks he's not going to say anything else, but then Gerard continues, all in a rush, "It's new. What if, you know, I fuck it up and then everyone knows and thinks I'm more of a loser than usual."

"Nobody thinks that, Gee."

"Whatever. Bob is...private. A private thing."

"Not after you told everyone to stop flirting with him."

"I didn't want him to feel weird," says Gerard, and he doesn't sound defensive so much as self-righteous.

"Bob can handle it. He knows all he has to do is tell me to back off and I will...well, I'll think about it anyway." Frank shrugs. "Sometimes he's just too much fun to mess with."

Gerard ignores Frank's last comment to say earnestly, "But it's not just you. It's everybody staring and making him uncomfortable."

Gerard runs a hand through his suspiciously silky-looking hair and Frank leans across the counter and rubs a lock of it between his fingertips. "You washed your hair this morning."

"Four days in a row," Gerard admits, with a glum expression that Frank finds hilarious considering the subject. "Bob."

"Yeah, and?" Frank doesn't laugh but it's only by herculean effort.

"I never know when I might run into him." Gerard looks up from behind the bangs falling over one eye and mumbles, "And he likes to touch it."

Still fighting back a laugh, Frank makes sure nobody is around to overhear when he leans in and asks in a low voice, "Does he pull it when you're blowing him?"

"I don't...he hasn't...we haven't...yet."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Frank knows he's gaping but he can't help it. "Is something wrong with him? Or you? Some sort of medical malfunction? Because they have pills for that now."

"No," Gerard starts and then shrugs, looking a bit bewildered himself. "No, we both can, I think. We just haven't."

Frank folds his left arm across his chest, bracing his right elbow in his left hand, and props his chin on his right hand, absolutely _fascinated_. "Why?"

"I don't know! He's a fucking gentleman or something? We just make out a little and there's usually other people around so we can't go very far and then he takes me home. It's worse than high school. And I think I might be the asshole boyfriend in this scenario, impatiently waiting for that magical date when the chick will put out already. Shit." Gerard twitches and his hand nearly goes for the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes before he apparently remembers where he is. "I don't even know," he says helplessly, throwing his hands up.

"Huh." Frank thinks about it for a while and finally says, "You okay with this?"

Gerard looks at him like he's stupid and Frank grins back. "Of course you're not. You need to talk to him. Or just jump him and see what happens."

"Okay, maybe I could do one or the other."

"Wanna know what I recommend?"

"I know you'd go with the second option." Gerard smiles for the first time since they started talking.

"I'm a man of action," Frank agrees.

"Yeah, well, you've got a customer, Action Man."

Frank laughs and goes back to work.

***

When he goes on break, Gerard debates calling Bob, knowing he'll get his voice mail during working hours, but decides a text message has less potential for embarrassment. When faced with voice mail and answering machines, Gerard can't help but babble until he finally just cuts himself off in the middle of a sentence or whatever. Yeah, texting is the way to go. He has to keep it short and simple when he asks Bob if he's free for dinner that night. He hits send before he chickens out.

When he checks his phone at lunch, Bob has texted him back: _Y. Ill pick you up. 6 ok?_

Gerard dashes off a quick _YES_ and then spends the rest of his lunch break drinking Coke Zero and chainsmoking. He tries to keep the angst to a minimum but what the fuck. It's been ages since he's gotten laid, because he just couldn't fucking deal with the effort of finding someone and either dating them or resigning himself to a meaningless one night stand, both of which were a lot easier when he was drunk or high all the time. Sex and sobriety form an unexpected minefield that Gerard is still learning to deal with, when he's not avoiding it completely. Bob sort of fell into his lap to begin with, but Gerard thinks that he's definitely worth the effort. But the wait is killing him.

***

When Bob shows up at the basement door that night, Gerard pulls him inside and says, "I don't want to go out."

"Okay." Bob blinks and the corners of his mouth turn down. "You could have called or--"

"No, no," Gerard interrupts, clutching at Bob's forearms a little too tightly, his fingers digging into the soft leather of his jacket. "I want to see you, just not go anywhere. We can order takeout or something, if you want."

"Oh. Okay, then." Bob smiles and pulls Gerard closer to kiss him. Gerard laughs a little against Bob's mouth and gently tugs on his lip ring with his teeth. Bob makes a little noise in the back of his throat that makes Gerard shiver and lick at Bob's lip ring and then move onto the rest of Bob's mouth. Bob kisses back, warm and precise and generous, his hands warm on Gerard's shoulders, and Gerard forgets any ideas about seduction he might have had and plans to keep kissing Bob for as long as he can, possibly the rest of his life.

But then Bob's hands slip down Gerard's back to his hips, to the top of his ass, fingertips just barely sliding into his backpockets, and Gerard wants more than just kisses. And he really, really _needs_ Bob naked right the fuck now. He pushes Bob's jacket off his shoulders and whimpers a little when Bob has to stop touching him for a moment while he pulls it the rest of the way off. Gerard shoves his hands up under Bob's long-sleeved t-shirt and tries to keep kissing Bob while he gets his shirt off, but they get tangled up in it and Bob laughs and gently pushes Gerard back a step. "Just, slow down. All right? We'll get there."

Bob gets his shirt off and then helps Gerard off with his, and Gerard is already so desperate and skin-hungry he throws his arms around Bob, pressing their torsos together and pushing his face against Bob's neck. He revels in all that firm muscle, smooth skin, _warmth_. It's been so long, so damn long that he's felt anything like this, any attraction-belonging-connection.

In a gesture both soothing and arousing at the same time, Bob runs his big calloused hands up and down Gerard's back and murmurs nonsense sounds into Gerard's hair, and Gerard shudders and licks at Bob's collarbone, nuzzles against his throat. He wants so hard and so much that he aches with it. He arches his hips against Bob and makes a tiny helpless sound and shudders. "I want you naked but I don't want to let go yet."

And holy fuck, he sounds so embarrassingly _needy_. For a moment, really just a few crucial unavoidable seconds, he worries that he's going to freak Bob out, scare him off so that he runs away from Gerard and never comes back.

But no. Bob huffs an amused sound right above Gerard's ear and brings his hands around in between them to pop the button of Gerard's jeans. "Let me take care of it. Just...let me."

Gerard holds on to Bob's shoulders to keep his balance while he kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks, and Bob slowly and methodically strips Gerard's jeans and boxers off and pulls him over to the bed. He urges Gerard down onto the mattress and sits down beside him, taking his shoes and socks off and then turning to just look at Gerard for a long moment. The look on his face is intense and Gerard wants to look away but can't.

"Was starting to wonder if we ever gonna get here," Bob says, finally, a smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. His eyes are bright and so blue that Gerard feels like he could get lost in them, and he's seriously beginning to fear for his sanity because he's never been this much of a stereotypical romance heroine. Most of the encounters that have made up his scattershot sex life up to this point have been rushed and fumbling, and often overlaid with a chemical haze that made each experience rather dreamlike and forgettable.

This time, however, he's painfully sober and every sensation is sharp and clear. He should be self-conscious, he knows, being naked while Bob is still half-dressed and he usually would be but Bob is looking at him with a hungry, almost anxious expression on his normally placid face. "Me too," Gerard finally manages to say. "I wanted to."

"Yeah, me too," says Bob. Some of the anxiousness drains from his face, and he smiles kind of soft and sweet.

Gerard sits up and puts his arms around Bob again. "Then why..."

Bob shrugs and Gerard can feel the smooth shift of muscle and bone under the skin of his shoulders. "Just felt like waiting might be best. And you seemed okay with it."

"Not anymore," says Gerard, pressing his flushed face against Bob's arm.

"Yeah, I got that when you jumped me." The amusement in Bob's voice makes Gerard want to lick him, so he does, pressing the flat of his tongue against Bob's biceps and dragging it up to the curve of his shoulder, where he bites lightly and laughs.

"Why are we still talking?"

Bob shrugs and Gerard has to bite him again, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention. He brushes his mouth agaist Bob's ear and whispers, "You're overdressed."

Bob huffs a quiet laugh and shucks his pants and boxers off in one move. Gerard's breath catches in his throat as Bob twists around and climbs onto the bed next to him. Bob shivers when Gerard rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around him and arches into him, making Gerard smile against Bob's shoulder and hook one leg over Bob's hip. He tugs on Bob with his whole body until Bob is half on top of him, his hard cock sliding along the crease between Gerard's thigh and groin.

"Gee," Bob says, low and tense, and his eyes close as he lowers his mouth to Gerard's. Gerard parts his lips on a sigh and slides his tongue along Bob's, mimicking the restless motion of Bob's hips. For long moments, they just kiss and rub against each other, all clutching hands and arching hips and soft little sounds of discovery and pleasure.

Then Bob slides one hand into Gerard's hair and circles the other around Gerard's cock, and Gerard gasps a little and says, "I have--"

When he breaks off to bite his lip and shove his cock deeper into Bob's grip, Bob looks up at him. "What? What do you have? VD? A secret wife? What?"

Gerard laughs breathlessly. "The hell? Those are my choices?"

Bob does something fantastic with his fingers, and Gerard gasps again and just flails one hand out and grabs the lube from under the pillow on the other side of the bed. Bob laughs and Gerard crinkles up his forehead in consternation. "If I'm gonna get up the nerve to jump you, I damn well better be prepared for it to work, right?"

"Absolutely," Bob nods and takes the lube from Gerard's hand and kisses him deeply. Gerard gets a little lost in Bob's lips and tongue so he's almost surprised when Bob's hand engulfs him and strokes him slick before Bob's cock presses against the length of his and then Bob has one big rough hand wrapped around them both. Firm, rhythmic strokes, an explosion of sensation and Gerard tangles his hand with Bob's, speeding him up, speeding them both toward release. He's got his other hand wrapped around the back of Bob's neck so hard it probably hurts but he can't loosen his grip or even _care_, because he's right there and Bob is close and panting against the side of Gerard's face and his lip ring is pressing hard against Gerard's jawbone and it's all kind of frantic and he's coming too soon.

Gerard tips his head back and tries to catch his breath, while Bob shoves against him a few more times and then he's coming with a little groan that sounds almost like he's in pain. Gerard finally loosens his grip on both Bob's hand and the back of his neck, his hands slipping down to Bob's ass for a clumsy grope before falling to the mattress. Bob moves to the side and flops over onto his back. His face is dark pink and Gerard marvels that there's someone else in the world as pale as he is. Together, with the backdrop of the navy blue sheets, they look like a couple of ghosts. The thought makes him laugh and when Bob lifts his head and makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, Gerard just shakes his head. "It's nothing. I just...I like looking at you."

"Okay." Bob lays his head back down and fumbles for Gerard's hand. They're both kind of sticky with lube and come, but there'll be time to clean up later. After a minute or so, Bob mumbles, "I like looking at you too."

Gerard is delighted at how red Bob's cheeks get. They just had sex, so really, this shouldn't be a big revelation. He wonders if this means Bob generally has sex with people he doesn't like looking at and then realizes that's kind of silly, and he's a bit pleasure-drunk in a way that is entirely different from being actually drunk. He's spent entirely too much time being the latter, and not nearly enough learning what the former is like. He thinks maybe Bob is the one to teach him.

Gerard is on the verge of dozing off-- and he thinks Bob may already be asleep-- when his stomach growls loudly and he finally realizes how hungry he is. He really hasn't eaten anything since the muffin Mikey bought him for breakfast. He turns to see Bob smirking at him, and says, "You heard that?"

Bob nods and says, "If you let me use your shower while you call, I'll pay the delivery guy."

"Deal," says Gerard, getting up and pulling on his boxers before digging around in the mess on his desk for a couple of takeout menus. "Pizza or Chinese?"

Without bothering to put on clothes he's just going to take off again, Bob pads over and looks at the menu for the Chinese place. "Hmmm. Kung Pao chicken and an extra spring roll."

He kisses Gerard briefly and then gathers up his clothes and disappears into the bathroom. Gerard calls their order in and then decides the thirty-five minute wait is plenty of time to join Bob in the shower.

It is, in fact, just enough time for them to both get clean and for him to push Bob up against the shower wall and blow him. Bob doesn't pull on Gerard's hair even when Gerard tells him it's okay, but Gerard doesn't think he'll mention that to Frank.

 

Later, after having stuffed themselves, they're slumped on the couch in front of a black and white movie playing on the TV and Bob looks up at the painting on the wall over the TV. It's a haunted house version of the house that Gerard has lived in most of his life with teeth for windows and twisted trees made of grasping hands. Bob tilts his head and squints at it. "Is that yours? I mean, did you paint it?"

Gerard realizes he's been holding his breath waiting for Bob's reaction, and lets it out to say, "Yeah. I...yeah."

"You're really talented. Why are you wasting your life in retail?"

"Talent by itself doesn't pay off the student loans. Nor does it provide benefits like health insurance."

"Good point, but still. That's really good." Bob looks at Gerard for a minute, bouncing his knee nervously, and then looks away before asking, "I'd like to see more of your work sometime. If you wanted. If it would be okay with you."

Instead of verbally replying, Gerard gets up and goes over to his desk. He chooses a portfolio carefully before bringing it back to the couch. "This is some stuff I did for this band that Brian is friends with." He waits until Bob is looking through the preliminary sketches and finished drawings before continuing, "So I do get paid for my art. Just not enough."

"Yet," says Bob firmly, as he holds up the piece that's going to be the band's cd cover, tilting it into the light from the lamp by the bed so he can get a better look at it.

"Maybe." Gerard shrugs and stares at his hands, startling when Bob reaches over and wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him closer.

"It's gonna happen," Bob murmurs into Gerard's hair and presses a kiss to his ear.

Gerard settles against the warmth of Bob's side and thinks "Maybe" again, but this time he almost believes it.

***

It's nearly midnight when Bob finally pulls himself up off of Gerard's couch. Gerard makes a sleepy disappointed noise and Bob pets his hair and says, "Sorry, but I have to go to work in the morning and my dog will need a walk before bed."

Gerard just tips over and smushes his face into a throw pillow, and Bob shakes his head. He drags a blanket off the bed and drapes it over Gerard before turning off the TV and the lights and letting himself out.

When he gets home, Ray is sitting on Bob's couch with his sock feet up on the coffee table and Bob's dog lying across his lap. Bob hangs up his jacket and settles in the overstuffed chair next to the couch and says, "Krista kick you out or what?"

"Her parents came for a surprise visit. She doesn't want them to know we're living in sin." Ray smiles apologetically and shrugs. "I hoped you wouldn't mind if I crashed here for a few days. I took Daisy out for a long walk around the neighborhood."

"Good thing you had my spare key. I guess you can stay then," Bob says and lights a cigarette. He tilts his head against the back of the chair and lets out a stream of smoke on an almost silent sigh.

"That's a Just Got Laid face if I ever saw one." Bob looks over to see Ray smirking at him.

"Shut it," mutters Bob as Daisy finally stirs from Ray's lap and comes over to jump up into the chair with Bob. There's not really enough room for both of them, but Bob is a sucker for her face and doesn't make her get down yet. He just carefully stubs out his cigarette so he can light it again later, and rubs her ears and coos at her for a while, ignoring the way Ray is grinning at him.

"Is this the same guy from the gig awhile back?" Ray asks, and of course he won't shut up about it, because he's interested and he _cares_. Bob should be used to it by now, but he still finds it vaguely annoying and yet secretly a little sweet, the latter of which he'd deny with his dying breath. "Mikey's brother?"

"Yeah, Gerard." Bob can't help the stupid smile when he says Gerard's name and buries his face in Daisy's neck so Ray won't see.

"I didn't really get to talk to him for more than a couple of minutes, but he seemed..." Ray pauses as if searching for the right word. Bob just raises an eyebrow and relights his cigarette when Daisy jumps down to wander over to her basket. He waits patiently for Ray to get to the point.

Ray finally settles on, "Different. He's different from your usual type." Bob shrugs and studies the smoke from his cigarette contemplatively, while Ray hastens to add, "That's not a bad thing. Your usual type tends to be musicians who steal your TV when they break up with you."

"That was just once and I got it back," Bob says with a little smirk. It's kind of funny now, but at the time it was enraging. If a mutual friend hadn't intervened, Bob would have broken his ex's face.

"So he works at a drugstore or something, right? I think Mikey mentioned that once."

"He's an artist," Bob says with no particular emphasis. When Ray gives him a questioning headtilt, Bob shrugs. "I don't want to be defined by my day job. He shouldn't be either."

After a pause that goes on so long that it's almost awkward, Ray smiles. "At least, he probably has his own TV, right?"

"Yes, he has his own TV, Ray." Bob sighs and rolls his eyes as he crushes his cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table. He goes ahead and lights another one because he can tell Ray is not done quite yet.

"Just checking." Ray shifts around until he's lying down on the couch and pulls a blanket up to his chin. He watches Bob thoughtfully as he says, "I guess you could do much worse. You really like this guy, huh?"

Bob flicks his ashes in the ashtray and takes another drag. He thinks about Gerard for a moment, pictures his face, his smile, remembers the flutter in his stomach when Gerard touches him. He also thinks about Ray who is the only person in the world except his mom who ever asks him about his feelings (Mikey threatening him doesn't count). "Yeah, I really do," he says finally.

They sit in silence until Bob finishes his cigarette and pulls himself out of his comfy chair. "I gotta get some sleep. Night."

"Good night," says Ray.

Bob smiles and says, "It has been." Then he shuts his bedroom door on Ray's quiet laughter.

 

He falls asleep thinking about the smooth slide of Gerard's skin, the bite of his sharp little teeth sinking into Bob's neck, the brush of his hair against Bob's shoulder, his ridiculous pink underwear, and the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs. Bob falls asleep thinking how utterly fucked he is, but he's okay with that.

***

After Gerard wakes up on the couch, he makes a pot of coffee, lights a cigarette, and opens up a sketchpad. When the coffee's all gone and the cigarette has burned itself out, forgotten in the ashtray, Gerard has a finished picture of himself and Bob as ghosts, holding hands and floating through a midnight blue landscape with the shadows of wolves lurking behind them.

He can't shake the feeling that he had really intense--maybe _significant_\--dreams last night, but he can't remember them. There's just something teasing at the edges of his subconscious and he wants a drink more than he has in at least a week or two. He wants to drink every day but most of the time he's able to ignore it by letting himself be absorbed by something else. Today the desire won't let itself be subsumed by art or coffee and cigarettes and when he tries to read a book, all he can think if is how long it would take him to walk to the nearest liquor store. Not long. And he's got a little cash tucked away in a drawer that he was saving for the next time he goes to the art supply store for some new brushes.

After marking his place, he lays his book aside and calls Mikey.

"Hey, Gee. What's up?"

"You're not at work, are you?" Gerard asks when he realizes he didn't even think about Mikey's schedule.

"No, I'm off." Mikey pauses but long enough for Gerard to try to fill the silence. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh. I don't..." Gerard doesn't even know how to answer because obviously something is off with him today, but on the other hand, things with Bob are good, so nothing's wrong. "Talk to me. About anything. Just tell me...um, Spencer, the shows you've been to, work, whatever you're reading, I don't care. Just talk to me."

"Are you...? No, okay, talk. Right." Gerard can hear Mikey let out his breath and it's not a sigh, but it sounds tired and Gerard feels guilty for bothering Mikey with his shit. Again. It's not the constant thing it used to be at least.

"You don't have to. I'll--"

"Shut up," Mikey cuts in mildly, and then starts telling Gerard all about the movie he watched with Spencer the other day. Gerard tries to pay attention, but mostly he just lets Mikey's voice roll over him. It's soothing and serves to remind him what all he's got to lose.

When Mikey pauses in the middle of talking about Gabe's band, Gerard says, "I slept with Bob last night."

"Okay. Are you going to send a memo every time or was this special?"

"It was the first time."

"Yeah?" Mikey sounds genuinely surprised, maybe even shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah, unlike some people I don't put out on the first accidental date," Gerard says and the teasing feels good. Normal. Or whatever passes for normal with him.

"Funny. You're going to let that go eventually, right?" When Gerard doesn't readily agree, Mikey sighs. "Of course not, what was I thinking."

"It's my duty as a big brother to give you shit about stuff like accidental dates for all eternity. It's in the handbook and everything."

"Great." Gerard lights a cigarette and switches his phone to the other ear in time to hear Mikey say, "You okay?"

"Good question. I'm not sure." Gerard take a deep drag and lets the smoke out through his nose. "It was good. With Bob. You know. He's not, like, a freak or anything."

Mikey laughs at that, and Gerard feels himself smile for the first time all morning. "Although maybe he's saving that for later. I don't know."

"I don't know, Gee. He seems like he'd be pretty vanilla," says Mikey, amusement still evident in every word.

"He could be into all sorts of weird shit and you'd never know," Gerard argues just because he likes it when Mikey laughs.

"I guess," Mikey concedes, but he doesn't sound like he believes it. Gerard thinks about defending Bob's ability to possibly be perverted but realises that's probably crazy behavior on his part and he's feeling weird enough as it is.

Neither one of them say anything for a moment, but then Mikey says, "Do you need me to come over?"

Gerard thinks about it carefully before answering. "No, I'll be fine. I have stuff to do and I'm sure you do too."

"You're not going to drink today." It is definitely not a question. Mikey's confidence--his faith--makes Gerard's eyes well up a little and he looks at the ceiling and blinks hard a few times before he answers.

The tightness in his chest loosens and Gerard doesn't feel like he's going to break apart. This he can deal with. "No. Not today."

"Call me if you need me. Anytime."

"I will." It's the same way they always end these conversations. They could exchange I Love You's but they don't need to. It's understood.


	6. Halloween

Frank loves Halloween the way other people love Christmas and Hannukah. His apartment is fully decorated with ghosts, ghouls, strings of purple and orange lights, and glowing jack-o-lanterns by the middle of September. Of course, since it's also his birthday sometimes he gets presents, so it is similar, but it's not just that. He's sure he'd love it just the same even if it wasn't. He actually has a collection of costumes and has a hard time choosing. After much deliberation and talking Gerard into helping with his makeup, he goes with zombie. It's a classic for a reason.

Gerard comes over a few hours before the party and between the two of them, they transform Frank into one badass-looking zombie, complete with peeling strips of skin on his face and arms and a nice juicy headwound. They then turn their talents to making Frank's roommate look like Frank's victim. They drench Butcher, who sits still and politely declines Gerard's offer to let him put a shirt on first, in fake blood and cover him in lots of gaping bitemarks. Frank thinks they both look beyond awesome. He gets his camera out and makes Gerard take a bunch of pictures.

Just after Gerard takes a shot of the particularly gruesome wound on the side of Butcher's neck, Gerard looks up at the clock and says, "Shit. I've got to get home and get myself ready."

"Edward Scissorhands?" Frank asks hopefully as Butcher escapes to his bedroom and Gerard starts packing up his makeup case.

"Maybe next year," Gerard says, and he actually does look apologetic. "But this one will definitely be...memorable."

"If you come as a corpse or a vampire again--"

"No, no, this is all new." Gerard smiles and carefully ruffles Frank's hair--well, the part not crusted with fake blood and bits of latex. "Trust me."

"Yeah, like those aren't the two most dangerous words in the world." Frank rolls his eyes and picks up a pack of cigarettes, patting down his pockets for his lighter.

"Hey, be careful with that. You don't want to start melting."

As he finally finds his lighter, Frank ignores Gerard's motherhenning and lights his cigarette. He briefly considers badgering Gerard into telling him what his costume is--and Frank could totally do it, possibly by sitting on him, also tickling might be involved. But then he decides to just be surprised for once. It's probably good for his character or whatever.

Just as Gerard opens the door to leave, a thought occurs to Frank and he almost wants to kick his own ass for being so self-absorbed that he didn't think of it sooner. "Hey, Gee, is it going to be all right? The party and all the drinking. Will you be okay with all that?"

Gerard looks surprised and that makes Frank feel even worse for not asking sooner, but then Gerard squeezes Frank's shoulder and smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. But if I can't handle it, it'll be my responsibility to recognize that and act accordingly. I don't want you to worry about it. Just have an awesome birthday, okay?"

"It already is," Frank says, and presses a quick kiss to Gerard's cheek before waving him on his way.

 

About an hour later, Frank opens the door to find Bob, wearing a charcoal pinstriped suit with a black shirt and red tie. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

Bob tips his sunglasses down and says, "Hit man. Got a problem with that?"

"No," Frank says and, because Bob looks so fucking serious, starts giggling. Then he's laughing so hard his stomach muscles ache. When he can breathe--and speak--again, he finally widens his perception to take in the space behind Bob. "Oooh, who's the babe? I thought you were bringing Ge--oh _fuck_ no, it's not."

Now it's Bob's turn to laugh. Gerard just giggles a little and waves his painted fingernails at Frank.

"Whoa, you are hot, Gee. Can I feel your t--"

"No." Bob grabs Frank's hand before he really even reaches for Gerard's modest yet still oddly enticing fake rack. Frank thinks about struggling, but Bob has a very disquieting look in his eyes and Frank isn't sure how far he really wants to push him this early in the evening. Now later on, after a few drinks, might be another story.

"Dude," Frank says reasonably, pulling his hand out of Bob's grip. "You do know he's not a chick and they're not _real_, right?"

Bob's face goes all red as if it just now occurred to him that he's defending Gerard's honor, and that makes Frank laugh even harder. "You're blushing over Gee's fake tits. I love you, Bob Bryar. Seriously. You're an endless source of entertainment."

Then Gabe shows up with Travis, Ryland, Alex, and Nate standing behind him like a gang, and in the ensuing chaos Bob and Gerard make their escape into the apartment. Frankie eyes Gabe's New Kids on the Block t-shirt, purple hoodie, bedazzled white jeans, bright yellow belt, and is that? Yes, that is a pendant with Justin Timberlake's face on it hanging around Gabe's neck. "What the fuck are you supposed to be?"

Gabe holds his arms out and grins. "I'm a teenie!"

"What?" Frank says, but just then Greta and Victoria show up and take in Gabe in all his glory.

"Okay, that is pretty awesome," says Victoria, and Greta nods approvingly.

"I totally had that belt back in the day," Greta says, and Gabe preens like--well, Frank doesn't know like what exactly but it's kind of freaking him out, so he just waves everybody inside.

"Put your coats on my bed, because there will be no fucking on it. But there better be some dancing up in here, Saporta," Frank announces while he takes various bottles and bags and packages that are being shoved into his arms. "Show us your Timberlake moves."

 

*

If Frank was the type to give prizes for costumes, Brendon is convinced that he and Jon would win Best Coordinated Couple (also Cutest Couple, while he's thinking about hypothetical awards). Jon has his face painted like a lion and is wearing a headband with tawny-colored cat ears and strands of brown yarn glued on to simulate a mane. With his fancy red jacket and black top hat, Brendon is a lion tamer, complete with a little whip, which Spencer threatens to take away from him after he hits Spencer on the ass a few too many times.

Brendon notices Mikey getting an interested look in his eyes, and he widens his own heavily lined eyes and sing-songs in Spencer's ear, "Someone's going to have pervy fun tonight."

Frank happens to walk by right then and says "Everybody better be having fun, motherfuckers." Then he ruffles Jon's mane. "Walker, you look fucking adorable."

And then he wanders off again and Brendon sees him hook his arm around Matt Cortez's neck and plant a kiss on his cheek. He turns back in time to hear the tail-end of Spencer's comment. "--lions wear flip flops."

"This one does," Jon says, and takes a playful swipe at the back of Spencer's head with his hand curled into a paw. "Rawwrr."

"That was so cute, I have to kiss you now," Brendon announces, unable to help himself. "Spencer, cover your eyes, I'm going in."

Brendon kisses Jon very, very carefully so as not to smudge his facepaint, but he does manage to slip him a little tongue, because he is Brendon and it's expected. Jon grins at him when he pulls back. "Rawwr."

"You're killing me," Brendon announces even more dramatically than last time. But as he leans in for another kiss, Spencer shoves a bag of chips into one of his hands and a beer in the other.

Brendon looks down at the bag and says, "This is not a good substitute, you know."

"Yeah, but more socially acceptable in a roomful of people," Spencer says blandly, giving Brendon the eyebrow. Brendon is powerless against the eyebrow and Spencer--the bastard--knows it.

"What's the difference between french onion and regular onion?" Jon asks thoughtfully, taking some of the chips from Brendon's bag.

Brendon points at him. "Good question! Huh. I have no idea."

Mikey speaks up for the first time and he'd been so quiet Brendon had forgotten he was there, kind of lurking behind Spencer's shoulder. "You should ask Alex." He points at a dark-haired pirate a couple yards away who is deep in conversation with Gabe and Victoria. "He knows all kinds of interesting shit about food. He went to chef school or whatever."

"You really do know everybody, don't you." Spencer gives Mikey a starry-eyed look that cracks Brendon up. Mikey just shrugs and Jon steals Brendon's beer and Brendon forgets what the question was. He's too busy trying to steal his beer back to care when Mikey pulls Spencer away and says something about going into Frank's room to look at his comics collection.

It's only later than he remembers that Spencer's not really into comics.

*

William looks away from where Ryland and Alex are setting up a drinking game involving shots of tequila and wraps an arm around Frank's shoulders. "Happy birthday," William says, as he presses a kiss to Frank's cheek. "Where's your lovely girlfriend tonight?"

"She couldn't get off work. We're gonna celebrate tomorrow," Frank says, leaning into William's embrace, all warm and pliant with alcohol.

"I'll bet you are." William rubs his fingers up and down Frank's arm.

"Hey," says Frank mildly, but he doesn't move away.

"I didn't even ask about the birthday spankings."

"I'll think about it." Frank rubs his cheek against William's shoulder.

"Oh, so will I, Frankie, so will I," William assures him fervently.

Frank punches him in the side, too lightly to actually hurt. "Perv."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Nah. Just stop perving on me," says Frank sounding serious for a change.

William pays him the courtesy of being similarly serious when he says, "Sure, I can do that."

"Cool. Have another drink or something. I have to go mingle some more with my adoring public."

"Everybody wants you," William agrees, stepping away and eying Gabe who has his head tipped back as he laughs at something Nate is telling him.

"It's both a blessing and a curse." Frank grins and pats William on the ass as he walks away.

"Oh, now that's not fair, you tease," William says as Frank just laughs and climbs on Bob the hot Brinks guard's back. As he watches Frank tease Gerard from over Bob's shoulder, William thinks he may have to change the way he thinks of Bob. He might have to start calling him 'Gerard's hot boyfriend' instead.

*

Nate ignores the way Alex is taking yet another picture of him and sidles up to the really hot chick that's picking through a big bowl of candy on the bookcase next to Butcher's closed bedroom door. She must have come in while he was distracted or maybe she was in the bathroom when he came in, because he hasn't seen her before now. She's not in costume, just a simple little black dress that bares her pale, pale throat and collarbones but not much else. The skirt goes almost to her knees and isn't tight but drapes pretty invitingly around her hips and butt. She reaches up and brushes the curving sweep of her black hair out of her smoky green eyes and gives him a little smile with lips all slick and red.

"Hi, I'm Nate," he says smoothly, and her eyes brighten and her smile widens and he is fucking _in_. "Are you--"

Before he can lay some charm and wit on her, a sharp-dressed guy with strawberry blond hair comes up and wraps a hand around her waist, handing her a bottle of Coke Zero that he's just opened for her with the other. He stares at Nate for a second and Nate is seriously unsure if he's about to get his ass kicked before he's even done anything, but then the guy just smiles. "Hey. Bob Bryar. Nice to meet you." He glances away and lifts his hand at a scene kid walking by on his way to the bathroom. "Hey, Mikeyway."

"Hey, Bob," Mikey says as he turns and then does a double take. He blinks a few times and then shakes his head and laughs. "Holy fuck, Gee. You really fucking did it."

Nate looks back at the "girl" he was about to hit on, who is sipping at the Coke Zero with a Mona Lisa smile, and groans. "You're Mikey's brother, Gerard, right? Okay. Ummm...okay, let's pretend this never happened, right?"

"It's okay," says Gerard, and he's clearly trying not to laugh. He reaches out and puts a hand on Nate's arm and, fuck, he's wearing fake nails painted blood red and even that is hot. Still. Fuck. "It's very flattering."

"Just don't ogle him too much," Bob adds with a sort of intense look that has Nate holding his hands up in surrender.

"No problem, dude," Nate assures him hastily. He glances around and sees that Alex has stopped taking pictures because he's laughing too hard to hold the camera steady. "I have to go over there right now and kill somebody. Uh. Have fun."

"It was nice to meet you," Gerard calls out as Nate walks away and he can hear the smile in Gerard's voice and Mikey's weird little giggle.

He walks faster and vows to never hit on a girl on Halloween ever again.

 

*

Spencer winds his way through the living room to the kitchen where he has been promised more beer, and almost walks right into Gabe and William, who are wrapped around each other and leaning against the snack bar. William's head is tipped back and Gabe's face is buried in the crook of his shoulder--Spencer's sure he saw a flash of pink tongue against pale skin. Gabe's got one hand up under William's shirt and the other is tangled in his hair. William's got his fingers hooked in the waistband of Gabe's jeans, and Spencer seriously wonders how far he's planning to go right there in Frank's kitchen in the middle of a costume party.

Spencer is startled enough to say, "I thought you weren't into dudes."

William makes a disappointed sound as Gabe pulls his mouth off William's neck and grins wolfishly at Spencer. "William is the exception to every rule there is. Probably the exception to some natural laws, too. Can you defy gravity, Bill?" The hand he's got under William's shirt does something that William must like a lot because he makes a sound that is almost obscene.

Frank's roommate, whose real name Spencer doesn't even know since everyone just calls him the Butcher, walks up at that moment and gives Spencer a sympathetic look. "Don't try to figure it out, man. They are just..." He shakes his head and reaches into the fridge for a couple bottles of beer. He passes one to Spencer and says, "Come on, I'll tell you all about the time Gabe kissed Bill in a bar full of frat boys."

"He was irresistible," Gabe mutters and his pelvis is shoved right up against William's hip now.

"You just wanted to start some shit," Butcher corrects him in a knowing tone. "And it worked because we all got thrown out for fighting."

"Mmm. It was epic." William finally opens his eyes and smiles, showing off the tiny fangs he has attached to his eyeteeth. He looks kind of drugged out, but in the way of really good sex instead of actual drugs. "That black eye was totally worth it."

"I can't picture you in a barfight," says Spencer as Butcher starts pulling him away. William just shrugs and a second later he's lost in Gabe again.

"He looks all delicate and shit, but he's got a long reach and fights dirty," Butcher says with a shake of his head, like he doesn't get it either.

 

*

Gerard had instructed Bob to pick him up at the front door instead of going around to the basement entrance. So he found himself ringing the doorbell on Halloween feeling like a kid going to prom. He hadn't been this nervous over a date in about that long. It wasn't like it was his first with Gerard, so he didn't know--

Just then a formidable big-haired lady in a witch costume opened the door with a skull-shaped bowl of candy in the curve of one arm, and he realized why his hands were sweaty and his collar felt too tight. He was meeting Gerard's mom.

"You must be Bob." He barely got a nod in before she was grabbing his hand with a bright smile, and ushering him inside. "Come on in, honey. Gerard should be right down. He's a perfectionist."

Perfectionism was a side of Gerard that Bob had not seen yet, but he wasn't going to argue with the guy's mom. Some things you just don't do.

After a long awkward moment where Mrs. Way just smiled and Bob shifted from one foot to the other, Bob heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. He looked up just as a high-heeled foot appeared and then another one, and then legs in black tights that seemed to go on for days. Bob started to wonder if Gerard actually did have a sister he'd never mentioned because long-legged was not a term that came to mind when looking at Gerard. He really wondered when the skirt-clad hips came into view because, yeah, _girly_. But no, the person descending the stairs was definitely Gerard. Bob had spent too much time staring at and thinking about that face to not recognize it, even with full makeup and a slightly more complicated feminine hairstyle.

Gerard was kind of pretty for a guy anyway, but now he was beautiful. The makeup made his eyes look huge and deep and more green than usual and gave his normally pale face a touch of color. His lips were all shiny and red and Bob really wanted to taste them. And then kiss Gerard until he didn't need lipstick at all.

He finally noticed that Gerard was staring at him expectantly, clenching his hand on his sparkly black evening bag (oh, for fuck's sake) as if he might be as nervous as Bob. Bob managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and croaked, "Hello." He cleared his throat and tried again. "You look nice."

"Just nice?" Mrs. Way asked archly. Bob had forgotten that she was there, but now that prom night feeling came crashing back even stronger. He briefly wondered if he was supposed to bring a corsage or flowers or something.

"Well, um, I mean...beautiful?" Bob smoothed his hair down with the tips of his fingers.

"That's more like it." She patted him on the arm and gave Gerard a careful hug. "You boys have fun. Say hello and happy birthday to Frankie for me. Tell him to come see me soon."

"Sure, Mom, we'll tell him," said Gerard, but he was smiling at Bob.

Because Mrs. Way was giving him an intent look that kind of scared him, Bob took Gerard's coat and helped him on with it. Gerard's smile got impossibly bigger as he took Bob's arm and waited for Bob to open the door for him. When they got to the car, Bob repeated the chivalry earning him a delighted giggle and a kiss on the cheek. He immediately reached up to wipe away the lipstick but there wasn't any trace of it on his skin.

"Cool, huh? Victoria helped me pick it out." Gerard dropped the seat belt he was trying to fasten and leaned toward Bob. "We should probably test it out. See what it takes to make it rub off."

Bob shivered as about a hundred different ideas presented themselves to him all at the same time, and then Gerard's mouth was on his and his hands were tangling in Gerard's hair. Gerard pulled back laughing, "Hey, don't mess up the 'do. Not yet anyway."

Bob swallowed and licked his lips. "But later I can, right?"

"I sure hope you will."

"Promise," Bob said and grinned as he reached over and fastened Gerard's seatbelt for him before starting the car.

*

Spencer had ended up going with the cheapest and laziest costume possible. He wore an old set of scrubs that he couldn't wear to work anymore because the shirt was a little tight and the pants had a hole in the leg alarmingly near his crotch. He borrowed an old white lab coat from a friend in his chemistry class and wrote Dr. Smith on a piece of masking tape with a Sharpie and stuck it on the jacket.

He felt infinitely better about this when he picked up Mikey, who was dressed pretty similar to how he usually dressed for a night out. He had on more eye makeup, which Spencer found hotter than he would have expected, and his shirt was a little smaller and his tight jeans a little more low-slung, showing off the top of his boxerbriefs and a strip of his belly and back. Spencer could see the top edges of Mikey's hipbones and he really, really wanted to bite them and then lick the pain away and then do it all over again. So, yeah, mostly the same as usual. When Spencer just raised his eyebrows, Mikey shrugged. "Scene kid."

"Think Frank'll let you get away with that?"

"He will if he wants any of this." Mikey pulled a bottle of Jose Cuervo Black Medallion partly out of its paper bag so Spencer could see it, before he tucked it into a plastic Hot Topic bag that looked like it had been crumpled up for a long time before being hastily flattened and put into service as a gift bag.

"Well, I sprung for good beer, so maybe he'll let us pass."

Mikey shook the bag hanging from his wrist. "I also got him a giant bag of Kit-Kats and this import CD I know he's been wanting."

Spencer had to kiss him then. He literally couldn't _not_. After he'd kissed him quite thoroughly and Mikey had kissed him back enthusiastically, Spencer pulled away and grinned. "You're a rock star, Mikey. And a really good friend."

"Sometimes," said Mikey with a pleased little smile.

*

Because of their schedules, Patrick and Pete arrive at the party straight from work and not wearing costumes, but by then Frank is drunk enough not to complain. Patrick is laughing at something Pete just said when they walk in the door. Pete grins because making Patrick laugh is just about his favorite thing in the world, right after making Patrick blush.

When Patrick stops laughing and says "oh" in a surprised tone, Pete looks around to determine if there's some threat to Patrick's safety.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," says Patrick, his surprise fading into a pleased expression that makes Pete want to kiss him. Patrick gives a dorky little wave at a small group conversing across the room, and the only one who waves back is Bob the hot Brinks guard, even though he's not wearing his hot guard uniform, which makes him much less hot in Pete's estimation. While Pete is wondering what it says about him and his fuckeduppedness that the lack of a gun detracts from someone's hotness, Patrick walks away from Pete and goes over to talk to Bob.

Pete has no idea how Patrick could know Bob, since he's always been tucked away all safe and sound in the pharmacy when Bob comes into the store. Pete hates a mystery, so he goes over and slings an arm around Patrick's shoulders, and Patrick doesn't shake him off immediately which is a good sign

Bob and Patrick are talking about some band they both saw this one time at that place-- "You know the one?" Bob asks Mikey and Jon.

Jon shakes his head and wanders off when Travis calls his name, but Mikey says, "Yeah, I know where you're talking about. The acoustics suck in about three quarters of the place, but they never carded me when I was underage."

Patrick laughs. "They still card me, and I've been going there for years. You just have to know that perfect spot to stand in for good sound."

Pete starts to make a comment about Patrick's baby face, but Bob beats him to it. He chucks Patrick under the chin and says "It's your sweet little baby face" in this _fond_ voice and what the fuck. Pete is not down with some other dude making moves on _his Patrick_.

Pete looks at Mikey for backup but Mikey's watching Spencer, who is over by the stereo with Brendon wrapped around him and they're both laughing low and intimate. Mikey does not look jealous. He doesn't have much of an expression at all which, Pete knows, could mean he is completely chill or that he's seething with silent rage. Mikey can be a cagey motherfucker that way.

"Hey," Pete says when he notices Bob is a little slow to pull away. "Hands off the Patrick."

Bob raises an eyebrow and says, "Really? Whatcha gonna do?"

Before Pete can get wound up, Patrick nudges him in the ribs and gives an exasperated sigh. "Cut it out. And you," he points accusingly at Bob, "don't fuck with Pete." But he smiles a little when he tells Pete, "It's cool. I've known Bob a long time-- longer than I've known you."

"Obviously," Pete says, then smirks. "But not, like, biblically, right?"

Bob presses his lips together and looks away like he's trying not to laugh.

"Um," Patrick says oh so eloquently. "Actually..."

Pete feels his eyebrows shoot up and his stomach drop. "Really."

"Yeah, we...uh--"

"--used to live together," Bob finishes when Patrick falters.

"Really," Pete says again, wondering why he's so surprised. Patrick is awesome. Anyone would jump at the chance to live with him. But then Pete smiles. "Oh, you were just roommates?"

Patrick smiles and his cheeks turn a little pink, and Bob says, "If it makes you feel better."

"It so does," Pete mutters, but he knows that it really, really doesn't.

Gerard wanders up about that time and hands Bob a bottle of water. "Hey, guys. Did you just get off work?"

Pete does a double take and says "Oh my God" and then "Can I touch your--"

"NO!" Patrick, Mikey, Bob, and Gerard all say at the same time, a little too emphatically in Pete's opinion, considering it was just a simple question.

"Okay, these three I get," says Pete to Mikey hooking a thumb at the others, "but why do you care?"

"That is my brother," says Mikey with a roll of his eyes.

"So I could touch them if Gerard was your sister? That's kind of messed up, man."

"No," Mikey says. "Stop grossing me out. I'm gonna go rescue Spence now."

Spencer doesn't look in need of rescue or even particularly upset about Brendon being draped all over him, but he smiles in a way that looks _dirty_ when Mikey sidles up and slides his arms around Spencer, levering Brendon off him in one slick move. Jon appears at Brendon's side and Brendon seems to quickly lose interest in Spencer anyway.

Turning back to Patrick, Pete cuts his eyes quickly at Bob and says, "So. Wow."

"What the fuck?" Patrick groans. "Did you think I was a virgin?"

"What did I miss?" Gerard asks, half-curious and half-suspicious.

"Apparently, Patrick and Bob used to f--"

"Date," Patrick interrupts loudly. "We dated for a while, when we were roomates. It wasn't a big deal, and it's been over for a long time, and we're still friends. I understand that being friends with someone after a break-up is a foreign concept to you, Pete, but it does happen among well-adjusted adults."

"That was kind of mean, Patrick," Pete says, giving him an epic sadface--the one that Pete used to practice in front of the mirror as a kid so he could use it to get out of trouble. "Besides, I'm still friends with Mikey."

"Sorry," Patrick says, but he doesn't really look like he means it. It's possible that he's immune to Pete's sadface, and that just means that Pete will have to step up his game. And Mikey pretty much is a huge exception, so it's not like Patrick doesn't have reason to be skeptical, so Pete's feelings aren't hurt by Patrick's bitchiness. One day they might be, but right now he still finds it adorable.

Gerard just looks from Bob to Patrick and doesn't say anything. Bob clears his throat and says, "We can talk about it later, if you want to."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Gerard says absently, staring at Patrick with eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

"You're totally thinking about a threesome now, aren't you?" Pete asks suspiciously.

"No," says Gerard, but he blushes all the way down to his exposed collarbones.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Patrick says. "I'm going to need a drink if I'm dealing with this shit all night."

"Yeah, me too," Bob agrees, handing his water back to Gerard, and then he stops with a worried look on his face. "Do you...? Should I not?"

Gerard seems to know what Bob is talking about because he lays a hand against Bob's upper arm, fingers stroking lightly down the sleeve of Bob's jacket, and leans into him just a little. "It's okay," he says quietly and then something too low for Pete to hear.

Bob nods and murmurs something back, and then he and Patrick go off to the kitchen in search of beer.

"Well." Gerard shifts from one foot to the other, drawing Pete's attention to how good those high heels are making his legs look. "That's. Huh."

"Do your feet hurt?" is what Pete says, instead of what he's thinking.

Gerard nods emphatically. "I have so much respect for women who have to wear these every day. I'm longing for my sneakers."

"Why don't you sit down over here then?" Pete motions to the end of the sofa that Greta has just vacated. After Gerard sits down, he demurely pulls his skirt down over his thighs, and Pete is certain that he shouldn't be thinking about Gerard's thighs or looking at them, because if Bob and Patrick don't kill him, Mikey surely will. But he is only human and his eyes slide back down when Gerard crosses his legs at the knee like women do. "You look good," Pete finally says desperately, trying to get things back to normal. "Um, nice costume."

"Oh, thanks," Gerard says, with a shrug that draws Pete's gaze to his collarbones and his throat. "I did it once in art school, just to see what it would be like to be a chick for a day. Everyone was a lot nicer, and I got offered a seat on the train."

"Cool. Mikey never told me about that," Pete says, perching on the corner of the coffee table so that his knees are right next to Gerard's.

"No. He wouldn't," says Gerard, plucking at his pink and white Hello Kitty wristwatch, which doesn't go with the outfit and Pete is sure he's seen Gerard wear it when he was dressed in boy clothes.

"No, I guess not," says Pete, and he can't think of anything else to talk about, which has to be a first, but then he's never been sitting at a party talking to a dude in drag who is his ex's brother and also dating the guy who is Patrick's ex. Add in their working relationship and it's a weird situation all around.

Gerard must feel the same way because after a moment or two, he taps his little sparkly purse on Pete's knee and breaks the awkward silence. "Why don't you go find Patrick or something? I'll be fine."

Pete jumps to his feet and says, "Yeah, I should go say hi to the birthday boy. And, oh look, there's Gabe."

It's not his smoothest exit ever, but at least Gabe will be safe to look at. More or less.

 

Of course, when Pete ends up with Gabe's tongue in his mouth it's totally not his fault. His hand up William's shirt, though, Pete will cop to that. He has no idea how those hands got into his pants, honest. He didn't even notice who they belonged to. _Really_, Patrick.

Patrick does not seem surprised. But he's not particularly pissed off either, so Pete thinks that's maybe a good thing.

Maybe. Unless he secretly _wanted_ Patrick to get mad and jealous and stake his claim to Pete in front of everyone. Wow, maybe Pete has more issues than he even knew about.

But five minutes later, Patrick has him pushed up against the sink in the bathroom and he's kissing Pete so hard that Pete is seeing stars. When Patrick pulls back, he stares at Pete and looks a little freaked out. "Don't fucking do that again."

"No, Patrick, I won't," Pete sighs into Patrick's mouth, sliding his hands up the back of Patrick's shirt. He feels much better than William did. His warm sweat-damp skin feels softer, his back not as bony. Patrick bites Pete's bottom lip and Pete shudders. "Promise."

*

At some point in the evening, Brendon slides up behind William and puts his arms around his waist. He cranes his head under William's arm so he can look up into William's face then gestures at Gerard with his eyebrows. William is kind of fascinated because if anyone had asked him if gesturing with one's eyebrows was even possible he'd have said no. Brendon has odd and varied talents, it seems. "Yes?" William asks.

"That could have been you." Brendon widens his eyes and gazes at Gerard raptly for a moment before turning his face back up to William's. "Your legs would have looked even better."

William concedes to himself that he could probably rock a little black dress, but then he shrugs. "Maybe, but I won't. I really like pants."

"Dude, I so totally know what you mean," says Brendon with a careful nod before withdrawing and hopping over the back of a chair to wrap his arms around Jon instead.

 

*

After drinking half a beer and then starting to feel bad about it even though Gerard said it was okay, Bob hands it off to Patrick who has just finished his first one in record time. As Patrick drains the second bottle and goes to look for Pete, Bob pops a couple pieces of Dentyne in his mouth to get the scent of beer off his breath before he goes back to Gerard. No reason to make it harder on him than it must already be, surrounded by people drinking.

He comes back from the kitchen--and a confusing conversation with Mikey and Nate about werewolves-- to find Gerard sitting on the couch talking to a heavily-tattooed half-naked dude who is drenched in fake blood and pressed up against Gerard's side by the other three people also crammed onto the couch. Bob stands behind them and shamelessly listens in on their conversation which seems to be about art and uses words he really doesn't understand in context like "installations" and "readymade". He lets it wash over him as just another part of the general din of the party.

Travis has taken over the stereo at some point and the music has gotten a little bit better, and he watches Gabe and a sexy nurse he thinks is named Maja, but the introductions were made with Frank hanging off his back so he could be wrong. Whatever her name is, she's keeping up with Gabe, which not a lot of people can do. Bob almost chokes on his chewing gum when she flings one leg up in a high kick that puts her foot even with Gabe's shoulder. Then he moves around to the end of the couch, so that he's out of the way in case the dancing gets any more athletic. Gerard looks up as if just noticing that Bob has returned and smiles--no, he fucking _beams_, as if seeing Bob standing next to him is the best thing ever, and Bob just doesn't quite know what to do with that or the warmth spreading out from the pit of his stomach.

It's been a long time since--no, actually, in fact, nobody has ever looked at Bob like that. Not even Patrick during the best few weeks of their relationship. Bob tends to crush hard on people who aren't really attainable, and then ends up in short-lived but comfortable relationships with people who are attainable until he's too invested and then they're suddenly neither attainable nor comfortable. Patrick was the ultimate in comfort. Everything with him was easy and sweet and sometimes it was hot, but it was never very passionate. Not the sort of passion that Bob has always suspected happened to other people.

Gerard, however, is passionate about everything. He talks about comic books and art with the same fervor as he talks about how kids today don't have proper role models and decaffeinated coffee is an abomination and how completely awesome The Misfits and Queen are. And for whatever reason, he seems pretty passionate about Bob too.

While all this is going through Bob's mind, Gerard is writing something on a scrap of paper and handing it to the half-naked dude, then he holds his hand out to Bob. "Help me up."

Bob gives Gerard a tug and peels him away from the half-naked guy's side, and Gerard brushes up against Bob. "I have to go fix my face."

Bob is about to protest that his face is perfect, but Gerard gives him a seductive smile and tugs him toward the bathroom. Gerard holds on tight to his hand and keeps giving him that smile over his shoulder, and Bob is getting with the program. A little making out in the bathroom at a party will be good foreplay for later when he takes Gerard home.

But Gerard seems to have a slightly different plan, because he kisses Bob too briefly, murmurs "mmm cinnamon" and then while Bob spits his gum into the trashcan, says earnestly, "I really, really have to suck you off. Right now."

While Bob stutters for a response, Gerard locks the door and sits down on the closed lid of the toilet. He hooks one finger in Bob's belt and tugs him closer. Gerard hikes his skirt up so he can pull Bob to stand in between his spread knees and Bob's entire body feels like it's on fire. "Gee?" And even Bob is not sure if he's asking anything in particular or just confirming that, yes, this is happening.

Gerard looks up from behind the curtain of hair falling across his eyes, and licks his lips. Bob knows what's coming and yet he still twitches just a little when Gerard undoes his belt buckle and pops the button on his pants. The slide of his zipper seems loud in the tiny room, even though with the music and chatter of the party seeping through the closed door it is far from silent.

Bob doesn't know what to do with his hands so they're kind of hovering uselessly in the space between him and Gerard. Ordinarily, he'd shove them into Gerard's hair but he doesn't want to make it totally obvious when they rejoin the party what happened in here. He feels too protective of Gerard's reputation to let him leave here looking completely wrecked. As Gerard is pulling Bob's boxers and pants down to his knees, Bob cups Gerard's face tenderly and bends down to kiss him lightly. "Are you sure you wanna do this here?"

Gerard flicks his tongue across Bob's lips, worries at his lip ring, and sighs into his mouth. "Fuck yeah. Put your hands on my shoulders and hold on."

Bob is barely half-hard, but then Gerard touches him and he's instantly ready to go. Gerard circles Bob's cock with one hand and curls the other around his thigh, bows his head and his mouth is sliding over the head of Bob's cock. Bob has to clench his teeth together to keep from saying anything or making any noise that would give them away, especially when Gerard pulls back and starts licking up the length of Bob's cock and swirling the tip of his tongue in interesting patterns over and around the head, looking up at Bob the whole time with eyes huge and intent. It's different than last time, neater and more delicate, and as hot as it is, Bob almost misses the wild messy abandon of that time in Gerard's shower.

Bob tries to look Gerard in the eyes but all he can focus on are his shiny red lips--and lipstick is totally not something he's seen in the vicinity of his cock in a really long time. As if he can read Bob's mind, Gerard's teeth flash in a quicksilver grin before he takes in as much of Bob's cock as he can and sucks so hard his cheeks hollow and his eyes slide shut and he moans a little and Bob's own eyes roll back in his head because, _fuck_, that feels amazing. Gerard's mouth is so hot and wet and seems _dedicated_ to making Bob dissolve into a whimpering mess.

When Gerard slides a hand between Bob's legs, cradling his balls and rubbing just behind them--being careful not to dig in his fake nails-- Bob moves one of his own hands off Gerard's shoulder and slides it up under Gerard's hair and curls it around the back of his neck. He slams his mouth shut so he won't say what what's going through his head right now, which is an incoherent tangle of encouragement and pleas for more/harder/faster _fuckfuckYESfuck_ and maybe a declaration of adoration or two, just because, damn. But then he's getting a little light-headed, so he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out with a whisper, "Gee."

Gerard pulls off and smiles slightly and then presses his closed lips to the tip of Bob's cock in a delicate kiss, and Bob thinks he feels more than hears a very quiet "Yes" right before Gerard goes back down on him and starts sucking hard and fast, bringing Bob off before he has a chance to warn him. Gerard swallows it all and then gives Bob a lick or two, but Bob is so sensitive he gasps and squirms away. After stroking the side of Gerard's neck, he puts his clothes to rights.

When he looks up again, Gerard is pulling a skinny tube of lipstick and a compact out of the purse dangling from the chain across his shoulder and fixing his make-up. He pops a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, and Bob just stares at him for a moment and for lack of anything better says, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gerard laughs and pokes Bob in the belly. Bob smacks his hand away because it tickles and that makes Gerard laugh more. Then he rotates his head from side to side and then in a circle, and rubs at the back of his neck. "That angle was rough."

"I'll make it up to you later," Bob assures him, and wonders which would be hotter fucking a guy wearing a skirt or getting fucked by a guy in a skirt? He decides to share this thought with Gerard when they are safely in the car and guaranteed to be alone. For now, he pulls Gerard to his feet and turns him around so that he's facing the mirror. He massages the back of Gerard's neck, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers into the tight muscles there and then spreading his palms out over Gerard's shoulders.

"Mmmm." Gerard tips his head back and arches into Bob's touch and Bob has to bury his face in the back of Gerard's hair for a moment before he can look at Gerard's reflection.

"You're so beautiful." It slips out before Bob can stop himself and when Gerard's face lights up with pleasure, Bob is glad he didn't censor himself. It's not the kind of thing he'd normally say, but maybe it's just what Gerard needed to hear.

But then Gerard looks away and stiffens so slightly that Bob wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been touching him. "You don't have to say that. My mom's not here."

"I know," Bob says, as someone starts knocking on the door. He ignores it because this is more important. "I don't say things if I don't mean them. I figured you knew that by now."

"Come on, you've been in there forever!" shouts a girl's voice that sounds like it's pressed right up against the edge of the door. "Some of us gotta pee."

Gerard's eyes dart from Bob to the door and back to Bob. "We should..."

"Yeah, I guess so," Bob sighs and resigns himself to picking up this conversation some other time.

Gerard shoves his sleeves up nearly to his elbows and opens the door, and says, "I have to go smoke a cigarette now or I'm going to come right out of my skin."

"Yeah, I could use one too." Bob absolutely does not think about Gerard's skin, just ignores the annoyed looking women standing outside the bathroom and follows Gerard out to the tiny balcony.

Frank is out on the balcony smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone, so Bob and Gerard hang around the sliding glass doors until he hangs up before stepping outside. "That was my girl," Frank says with a smile. "Thanks for letting me have a minute."

"No problem. It's too bad she couldn't come tonight." Gerard pats Frank's arm and pulls a cigarette out of the pack in his purse, and Bob has his lighter out before he even registers he's going to do it. Gerard smiles around the filter as he draws in a couple quick puffs, while Bob lights a cigarette of his own and hopes Frank won't say anything.

"You guys," Frank says and then just shakes his head and grins. He folds himself into a plastic chair that's pushed right up against the railing and says, "Oh hey, Gee, remember my party from a couple years ago?"

"Only vaguely," says Gerard, looking away as he takes a seat in the other plastic chair, his back to the railing. Bob just leans against the glass door across from Gerard, instead of getting close enough to see the ground a few floors below them. Although, the balcony is small enough that it hardly makes any difference.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Frank says sheepishly, and Bob isn't sure why but wonders if it has something to do with Gerard's drinking. Frank drops it quickly and starts telling a story about some people that Bob doesn't know with the improbable names of Otter and Hambone and their hilarious drunken shenanigans.

Gerard is fully engaged in listening and making the occasional comment, but Bob unintentionally tunes them out after a while. He mostly just watches Gerard while he smokes his cigarette. He's holding it kind of delicately between his first and second fingers. Bob is kind of amazed at how thoroughly Gerard has thrown himself into playing the role he's chosen, instead of just tossing on some clothes and calling it a costume, which is what Bob did. Even out here with no one but Frank and Bob to see, he is sitting quite ladylike: back straight, knees together, elbows held closer to his sides than usual. Ordinarily, sharing a smoke with Frankie and Bob would have him relaxed and slumped back in his chair with his knees spread open, or sitting forward hunched over a little as he tells a story that involves a lot of hand gestures and cigarette pointing.

Gerard catches Bob staring at the way he purses his lips more than usual on each drag, and Bob looks away quickly but glances back when Gerard stretches his leg out and taps the toe of his shoe against Bob's foot. Gerard smiles and says, "Are we boring you?"

"No," Bob says quickly. "No, I was just distracted."

"It's okay," says Gerard, pushing his toes against Bob's again.

Frank adds, "Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to be rude, talking about people you don't know."

"Nah, it's all right. I was thinking about something else anyway." Bob really hopes nobody will ask because he'll have to lie his ass off.

Nobody does. Frank just smirks and says, "Yeah, I'll bet." Then he slaps his hands on his knees. "I guess I should go make sure nobody's doing anything I'll have to kill them for later."

"Probably a good idea," says Gerard agreeably, but he's looking at Bob instead of Frank. When Frank stands up, Gerard quickly gets to his feet and wraps Frank up in a hug. "Happy birthday, Frankie. I think we're gonna head on out now. We had an awesome time."

"Yeah," Bob says, when Gerard and Frank both look at him expectantly. He doesn't say anything about Gerard speaking for both of them or making decisions without asking because he genuinely doesn't care. Also, it may be a test and he wants to make sure he passes. "It's been fun."

When Frank leaps the space between them and wraps his arms around Bob, Bob hugs him back and says, "Happy birthday, man." Then because it's the kind of thing Frank would do to him, Bob reaches down and pinches Frank on his skinny ass and says, "Pinch to grow an inch, but I guess it's too late for that."

"Kiss my ass, Bob Bryar." Frank punches Bob in the kidney and then flails away and whines at Gerard, "Fuck, Gee, can't you control your boyfriend? You gonna let him molest me like that?"

Gerard just laughs at him and says, "Yep."

Bob raises an eyebrow at being called Gerard's boyfriend, but it's not inaccurate. He just hopes Gerard noticed how well he took Frank's punch. That's the kind of thing that's important to Bob.

*

Frank walks Gerard and Bob to the door and notices that Gabe and William have already slipped out when he wasn't looking. Travis and Maja leave soon after Gerard and Bob, and then the party starts to break up with a steady trickle of people saying goodnight and shuffling for the door.

There's still some guys hanging around the living room talking quietly, when Frank decides he's done. The Butcher is with them, so he doesn't hesitate to say goodnight. His zombie makeup that had looked so awesome hours ago is peeling and itchy, so he takes a shower before crawling into his bed.


	7. after the party

Frank wakes up the next morning and only wants to die for the first fifteen minutes or so. After he goes to the bathroom and throws up everything he has ever consumed in his life, he lies on the cool tile floor for a while before deciding that he's probably going to live. It just won't be fun for the foreseeable future.

After swallowing a handful of ibuprofen and brushing his teeth, he starts to feel somewhat human, so he heads to the kitchen to make coffee and take stock of the damage. He finds Nate, Alex, and some kid he thinks is named Sisky or Siska or Sisko, passed out in a tangle on the couch. Alex has both arms wrapped tightly around Nate, Nate has a hand shoved up Alex's shirt, and Sisky's drooling onto Nate's shoulder. Frank makes a detour back to his room to get his cellphone and snap a picture, because this is prime embarrassment/blackmail material. Not for Nate. He'd probably put it up on his Facebook, but maybe for one of the others.

Frank's barely taken a sip of his first cup of coffee when some dude he doesn't remember meeting comes slumping out of Butcher's room, wearing nothing but black boxerbriefs and one orange sock. He blinks at Frank for a moment and mumbles something in what sounds like an Australian accent, but before Frank can ask him to repeat it, he turns around and goes back into Butcher's room. He doesn't make any noise when he closes the door, so Frank doesn't have to kill him.

Frank looks at the clock and sees it's barely nine and he doesn't have to be anywhere until five, so he finishes his coffee and goes back to bed.

 

***

The day after Halloween, Spencer wakes up in Mikey's bed for the first time. He's only a little hung over, which is a relief because he hates getting sick in someone else's bathroom. The other side of the bed is empty so he gets up--slowly and carefully, ignoring the dull pounding in his head--and pulls on his boxers. Then, on second thought, he pulls on his pants too.

He peeks around the bedroom door and hears Mikey talking quietly, but he doesn't hear any other voices so he cautiously walks into the kitchen. Mikey's on the phone but he smiles when he sees Spencer. He gets another cup out of the cabinet and pours coffee for Spencer. He motions to the milk and sugar still sitting out on the counter, and then says to whoever's on the phone, "No, I'm good. Yes, I'm sure. I'll be over for dinner tonight, same as always."

Then he hangs up and says "Gee" and then "Come here."

Spencer goes over and Mikey slips his arms around Spencer's waist. His hands are cool on Spencer's bare back, and Spencer's got a death grip on his coffee cup with one hand while he hooks his other arm around Mikey's neck. "Good mor--uh, afternoon," Spencer corrects himself when he glances at the clock on the microwave.

Mikey answers by licking the coffee off Spencer's bottom lip. Without taking his attention off Mikey, Spencer sets his coffee down on the counter behind Mikey and jumps when his hand brushes something warm and fuzzy. Mikey stops nibbling on Spencer's lips and says, "What?"

"Um," Spencer says and looks over Mikey's shoulder to see a mostly-black cat in a little grey hoodie staring up at him, completely unimpressed.

Mikey glances back to see what Spencer's looking at and says, "Oh, that's Bunny. My cat."

"Why is she--I'm assuming it's a she by the name. Why is she wearing a hoodie?" Spencer can't take his eyes off her. He's more of a dog person but he's always liked cats too. He's just never seen one wearing clothes before, except on the internet.

"She got tired of wearing her bat costume," Mikey says in a deadly serious voice. Spencer realizes that while he was sleeping naked in Mikey's bed, Mikey was in here changing the clothes on his cat. This gives Spencer a confusing moment of vertigo because he can't honestly tell if he wants to run away very fast or if he has in fact just fallen hopelessly in love with Mikey. He gropes for his coffee cup and drinks about half of it in one go, even though it's too hot. He already had a warm feeling in his gut and a burning in the back of his throat but now he has an excuse for it.

Mikey picks up his own coffee for a long drink, and then says, "You know what I really want? Ice cream. Something with chocolate and nuts and caramel."

"Okay." Spencer scrubs at his face with his free hand and drinks the rest of his coffee. "Yeah, okay. Can we go somewhere that has real food along with ice cream?"

"Sure, whatever you want," says Mikey and he smiles the wide toothy smile that makes Spencer's knees go a little wobbly. It's too late to run.

"Can I use your shower?" Spencer hears how weak his voice sounds and cringes inside. He hopes that if Mikey notices he'll write it off to Spencer being hung over.

"Of course." Mikey looks startled and Spencer's not sure if it's because he's surprised Spencer asked or if he thinks he should have offered first. "I'll get you a clean t-shirt, and then we can swing by your place for jeans or whatever. I don't think mine would fit you."

"Not without cutting off all circulation to important parts," Spencer agrees, with a laugh.

Mikey doesn't have any extra toothbrushes lying around but he shrugs and tells Spencer he's welcome to use his. Spencer waits until he's locked in the bathroom to shudder at the very idea, and does his best with a corner of a washcloth while he's in the shower.

They had slept at Mikey's because it was in walking distance of Frank's apartment, so Spencer's car is still a few blocks away on Frank's street. When Spencer gets out of the shower, he puts his own boxers and pants back on and feels grungy for doing it. Sliding into Mikey's soft, faded Radiohead t-shirt makes up for it a little bit. So he smiles at Mikey when he puts on the hoodie he'd snagged from his car on the walk over last night and says, "Ready to take a little walk?"

"Yeah, I'm ready if you are." Mikey waves goodbye to Bunny, who watches them from the hammock of a cat tower that's almost as tall as Spencer and takes up an entire corner of Mikey's living room.

"How did I not know you have a cat?" Spencer says as Mikey locks the door.

"Haven't I mentioned Bunny Marie before?" Mikey makes an odd halting gesture like he was about to reach for Spencer's hand and then shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.

Spencer tries not to feel disappointed, and says, "No, I'm pretty sure I'd remember a cat named Bunny. And wait, she has a middle name too?"

"Don't make fun of her name." Mikey stops halfway down the stairs that lead to the sidewalk and looks over his shoulder at Spencer. "You'll hurt her feelings."

"I don't think she can hear through a closed door and this far away." Spencer nudges Mikey in the small of his back to make him start walking again.

"But you don't _know_," says Mikey and he gives Spencer this look that says any mockery just might be met with tears and recriminations and no more sex for Spencer ever.

"I wasn't going to make fun," Spencer mutters, feeling like a jerk because he kind of was. "I guess it's just weird that I've never been inside your apartment until last night."

"You never said anything." Mikey doesn't stop walking, just looks at Spencer out of the corner of his eyes. "I mean, you could have come over any time."

"Well, no, I mean, I wasn't, like, thinking about it or anything." Spencer rolls his eyes at himself and tries to be more articulate. Perhaps this conversation would be better after about another pot and a half of coffee. "It's just something that occurred to me, that we always end up at my place. Even when Ryan was staying with me, which is kind of weird since you live alone."

Mikey's shoulders hunch under his jacket and it's not a shrug this time, it looks more like defensiveness and Spencer feels like an asshole who just kicked a puppy, so he hurriedly adds, "Look, I didn't mean, I just, you know, forget it. It's nothing."

"You say it's nothing like it's definitely something," Mikey says, his voice a monotone that gives nothing away.

"No. No, it's really not. It was just an idle observation, I swear. I didn't mean to, like, put you on the spot or anything."

Mikey's shoulders relax and he pulls his hands out of his jacket pockets only to then shove them into his jeans pockets instead. After a moment or two, he says, "It just hadn't come up yet. It would have eventually, I guess."

"Like it did last night," says Spencer and he wants to touch Mikey, give him an apologetic hug, but they're on a street corner waiting for the light to change.

"Yeah." Mikey shifts against Spencer's side, putting more space between them and stepping forward into the street before Spencer can reach out.

Spencer wishes he could go back to last night, trade this moody, withdrawn Mikey for the happy, affectionate Mikey who had kissed him breathless all the way from his front door to the bed. That Mikey had giggled as they got tangled up in their clothes and each other, making the undressing process take three times longer than normal. That Mikey had pushed Spencer down on the bed and climbed on top of him, riding him with beautiful abandon, stopping occasionally to pull Spencer up for deep, desperate kisses as if he couldn't get enough. Spencer had certainly felt like he'd never get enough of Mikey, even after he'd come. He couldn't just lie there while Mikey finished himself off, so he'd pulled Mikey forward and sucked him off quick and dirty.

Mikey had cleaned them both up and made Spencer drink some water and then curled up in Spencer's arms. He wants that Mikey back.

As they approach Spencer's car, he looks over at Mikey and says, "Look, if you're pissed at me, just say so and I'll apologize or whatever."

Mikey gives him a startled look and says, "What? I'm not pissed at you."

"Sure about that?" Spencer cocks his hip and leans against the side of the car, making no move to unlock the doors.

"Yeah, pretty sure." Mikey blinks and still looks a bit confused.

"Then is something else wrong?"

"No. Do you want to go to that diner over on Main that has the awesome milkshakes and all-day breakfast?"

"Uh. Yeah, sure." Spencer unlocks the car doors and waits until they're both inside to say anything else. "Maybe I should drop this, but seriously, you're acting weird and I want to know if I've done something. I didn't mean anything about not being over at your place before."

"Yeah, no, I know. I just.." Mikey makes a vague motion with one hand before gripping the seat belt convulsively. "I get lost in my own head sometimes."

"Oh." Spencer nods and starts the engine. "Well, that's better than getting lost in someone else's, I guess."

Mikey lets out a quiet laugh and moves one hand over to clasp Spencer's thigh. Everything starts to feel okay again.

***

November 1st is never a good day at work because the Halloween candy and assorted holiday crap goes fifty percent off. Some of it won't ring up correctly for some unknown reason, and some of it will be exempt because it'll roll over to Christmas. At least half the customers will ask when it's going seventy-five percent off, and none of them will be able to do the mental arithmetic to figure out how much something will cost. Dividing by two is just too damn hard, apparently. Brendon is no math genius himself, but he can manage that much without a calculator.

Being hung over makes it even worse. The only good thing is that it's Sunday so he doesn't have to be there until nine. Mr. Hurley gives him a pitying look, and Mike Carden laughs at him when Brendon shuffles by the photo counter with his sunglasses still on. He flips Mike off and then has to apologize to Miss Frances, who covers Cosmetics on Sundays and is approximately a billion years old. It feels like the time he slipped up and said "fuck" in front of his grandmother, except Miss Frances looks slightly less scandalized.

Around noon-thirty, Bob comes in and Brendon grins and says, "Hey, what's up?"

Bob nods with a half-smile, grabs a small blue shopping basket, and heads off toward the back of the store. Brendon is tempted to follow him but figures that would be weird. And he'd get yelled at for leaving the front unattended, which sucks because Hurley has a way of looking really disappointed that always makes Brendon feel guilty--like he kicked a kitten or something-- even though he generally couldn't give a shit.

Besides all that, Gerard said not to flirt with Bob anymore and well, Brendon wouldn't want to get on Gerard's bad side. He's never actually seen Gerard's bad side, but surely he must have one. And speak of the devil, Gerard comes through the door, talking on his cell and still trailing smoke from the corner of his mouth.

He stops at Brendon's counter and says to whoever's on the phone, "Do you need anything? You sure? All right. I'll see you later." He hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket. "Hey, Brendon. Give me a pack of Marlboro Lights and a pack of Parliament Lights, please. Box."

"Sure." Brendon rings up the cigarettes and waits while Gerard swipes his debit card through the reader.

While the receipt prints, Gerard asks, "How bad's the hangover?"

"Not too bad," says Brendon, because it's not, _now_. "I drank plenty of water and got a few hours of sleep."

"Good for you. That's one thing I do not miss." Gerard twitches and shoves the cigarettes in his jacket pocket. "I should go find Bob."

 

A little while later, Bob and Gerard walk up to the photo counter and look around. Gerard calls over, "Hey, Brendon, is Mike around?"

"He's gone to lunch," Brendon says, as he walks over.

Gerard makes this hilariously uncomfortable face and says, "Um. You're not busy, are you? Can you ring me up?"

Brendon doesn't have any customers at the moment, so he shrugs and moves around behind the photo counter and signs onto the register. "You could've got your discount checking out in Cosmetics, you know."

"No, I really couldn't," Gerard says and sets a box of condoms on the counter, along with lube, Kleenex, baby wipes, coffee filters, and a couple bottles of Gatorade.

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want Miss Frances ringing this up," Brendon says with a laugh. The blush on Gerard's face says it all.

Bob hasn't said anything up to this point, and he still just smirks as he hands Gerard some cash.

"No, I've got it," says Gerard.

"You already got my cigarettes," Bob says, like the rest should be obvious.

Gerard looks like he's going to argue for a few seconds then shrugs. "Oh, all right then. Did we need anything else?"

"You guys are such boyfriends," Brendon says, and he can't fight the grin that feels like it's taking over his whole face. They are, in fact, sort of adorable, but no way is he saying that out loud. Bob looks like he could kill Brendon with two fingers and maybe one of those would be redundant.

Gerard seems taken aback for a second and then a proud smile steals across his face. After a moment, he says, "Yeah. Thanks, I guess?"

Brendon almost feels like he should apologize, but Bob looks awfully satisfied, so he doesn't say anything. He bags up their stuff while Gerard runs his card and then hands over the receipt. "Have a good one, dudes."

Gerard slides on his sunglasses and grabs the bag, while Bob says, "You too."

As they're walking out and Brendon's going back to his register, he sees Bob stick his hand in Gerard's jacket pocket and pull out the Parliaments. Gerard never even breaks stride.

Such boyfriends, Brendon thinks again with a little sigh. Jon teases him for being a hopeless romantic, but Brendon doesn't mind because he is one. No shame in that.

***

When Bob takes Gerard home, Gerard's mom comes out to the driveway and asks Bob to come back around for dinner in a few hours. Trapped in the driver's seat of his car with Mrs. Way leaning down to peer at him through the open window, Bob finds himself agreeing.

"Or you can stay and watch football with us," Mrs. Way offers, while Gerard shifts from one foot to the other right behind her left shoulder.

Bob glances from Gerard's half-amused, half-horrified face to Mrs. Way and shakes his head. "I have to go home and walk my dog. I didn't get to spend enough time with her this morning."

Mrs. Way's expression softens and Bob can almost hear the "awwwwwwww" that's surely filling her head. He wants to drive away very fast and never come back--wait, he wants to grab Gerard and then drive away and never come back. But since Mrs. Way is still clutching at his car door and thwarting any kidnapping attempts he might make, he just starts the engine and asks, "What time?"

Gerard gives Bob an encouraging thumbs up behind his mother's back as she says, "Come around five or so."

When Mrs. Way finally steps back from his car, Bob throws it into gear and backs out of the driveway. He makes it a few yards down the street before he has to light a cigarette to calm his nerves. He doesn't look in the rearview mirror, but he does raise a hand in greeting when he meets Spencer's car coming from the opposite way.

***

Gerard has been patient. He hasn't asked. He's introduced Bob to his Dad and watched more football than he could ever want to and he's made conversation with the three most important men in his life. But the curiosity is eating at him and he finally turns to Mikey and asks in a low voice, "Why didn't you want to invite Spencer back over for dinner? That was impressive the way you blocked Mom from even saying hello to him."

Mikey glances at Dad and Bob, who are both engrossed in the game and apparently not paying them any mind. But he still gets up and motions at Gerard to follow him. They both grab their jackets and step out into the back yard. Gerard lights a cigarette and hands the pack to Mikey, who lights one and blows a lungful of smoke up to the sky.

"What's going on?" Gerard asks, poking at a clump of dying mums next to the back steps with the toe of his boot.

"Nothing." Mikey won't look him in the eyes, so Gerard grabs his wrist. "Come on, Gee, let go."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Mikey says again, but when Gerard just stares at him, he finally sighs. "Spencer probably wouldn't want to come anyway."

"Why? Did you have a fight?"

"No, not a fight. He thought I was mad at him so I think he's kind of mad at me now."

"It can't be too bad because he kissed you goodbye." Mikey shrugs and Gerard frowns and pulls him down to sit on the back steps, then he turns Mikey loose and takes a long drag off his cigarette. "Why did he think you were mad at him?"

"I don't know." Mikey smokes furiously for a minute and then tosses the butt in the dirt. "I got quiet and...you know."

Gerard did know, more or less. Mikey got in one of his withdrawn moods and Spencer misinterpreted it. He probably thought he'd done something wrong when he hadn't. "Did he say he was mad at you or was he hurt?"

"No. I don't know. He acted kind of weird until he dropped me off here."

"Well, yeah, he can't magically know everything is okay, unless you tell him. You should call him and talk about all the stuff you probably haven't talked to him about yet. Tell him it's okay."

"It's fine." Mikey shrugs and plucks at the seam on the knee of his jeans. "We don't have to spend every waking moment together like you and Bob."

"Hey. Watch it," Gerard says but Mikey is smiling for a change so Gerard grins back at him. "But seriously, you should talk to him. Make sure he understands."

"Okay. Whatever."

"Mikey."

"I will, you unrelenting nag. Fuck."

"Somebody's gotta do it. Oh, I have something to show you." Instead of going back inside, Gerard leads Mikey around to the basement door.

"What is it? Did you--Wait. Did you finish the painting you wouldn't let me see?" Mikey almost pushes Gerard over trying to get into Gerard's room. Gerard had no idea that Mikey's been that curious. He's been hiding it just that well.

Gerard makes Mikey wait by the door with his eyes closed while he gets the canvas set up and turns on every light in the room.

"Okay, you can look now," Gerard says, presenting the painting with a wave of his hands like a game show spokesmodel.

Mikey takes it all in, silent and wondering. His fingers reach out, stopping just short of actually touching the surface.

Gerard watches and gnaws on his thumbnail until the suspense gets to be too much. "Well?"

"It's amazing." Mikey tilts his head first one way and then another, pushing close to focus on some small detail and then pulling back to take in the whole thing again. "This should be hanging in a gallery somewhere, not hidden in the fucking basement."

"Well, speaking of galleries... I met this guy yesterday that might be of some help in that direction. Frank's roommate Andy--"

"The Butcher?"

"Yeah, his actual name is Andy and he's an artist. Apparently he really admired those pieces I did for Frank and has been asking to meet me for a while, but Frank kept forgetting or whatever. I don't know. Anyway. I may collaborate on an installation he's doing in the spring. We're gonna get together for coffee sometime this week. I'm going to show him some more of my work and we're going to talk about what he's got in mind." Gerard pauses and thinks about how he's trying not to get his hopes up too high. "I know it's still his thing, but it's a foot in the door. Gets my name and some of my work out there, you know?"

Mikey hasn't taken his eyes off the painting this whole time, but now he drags his gaze over to Gerard and grins. "Wow. You're going to be huge one day."

"Well, now, let's not get carried away. It's just a collab, not--"

"Gerard, shut up. This is awesome news and I'm really proud of you." Mikey hugs Gerard and then pulls back with a frown. "Um. Do you realize you left Bob up there with Mom and Dad? Alone. With Mom and Dad."

"Oh shit," Gerard gasps and turns to run upstairs, but Mikey grabs his arm.

"Did you show this to Bob yet?"

"What? No. I wanted you to see it first."

"Oh. Okay." Mikey lets go and turns back to the painting. "Go on and save Bob. I'll be up in a minute."

Gerard leaves Mikey staring at the painting and hurries upstairs. He finds Bob right where he left him, sitting on the end of the couch next to Dad's recliner. Mom is sitting next to him, pushing a plate of appetizers into his hands and asking him rapid fire questions about his life, his family, and--oh no she didn't--his feelings for Gerard. Bob shoves a cracker in his mouth instead of answering, which gives Dad an opening to ask Bob's opinion on the Jets defensive line.

Bob stares up at Gerard like a rabbit caught in headlights and Gerard immediately says, "I'm so, so sorry."

He doesn't miss the amused quirk of his mom's lips when she asks, "What for?"

Gerard isn't touching that one, so he says, "I need to borrow Bob for a minute."

Bob shoots up off the couch like he's spring-loaded and hands the plate back to Mom. He almost trips over his own feet in his haste to get away and Gerard has to fight not to laugh. Instead, he bites back a smile and says, "I need to show you something downstairs."

"Surely he's already seen it by now," says Gerard's dad, never taking his eyes off the TV screen.

Gerard chokes a little as he says, "A painting. I had to show Mikey first."

Bob has turned a painful looking shade of red and Mom is laughing at them both.

"I'm never bringing anyone home again ever," Gerard announces, sounding like a petulant teenager and not caring in the slightest.

"You'd have to move out first for that threat to have any weight," says Dad, glancing at Gerard out of the corner of his eyes.

"Don't listen to him, baby. You don't have to go anywhere until you're ready," Mom says, getting to her feet and heading into the kitchen.

"Don't baby him, Donna. He's a grown man," Dad yells at her back before grumbling about the stupid call the referees just made.

Gerard takes Bob's hand and pulls him out of the room and toward the stairs. When they get out of earshot, he says, "So, it's not actually possible to die of embarrassment, right?"

"At least you came back before she got out the naked baby pictures. They were next." Bob clutches at Gerard's hand a little too tightly. When they meet Mikey on the stairs, Bob glares at him. "I see now why Spencer isn't here."

Mikey looks startled for a second then he smiles. "Well, yeah, I'm not stupid."

"Hey."

"Sorry, Gee. But you know..."

"I do _now_," Gerard says with feeling.

Bob looks back and forth between them like he's watching a tennis match. A horrific tennis match with a severed head for a ball. "Maybe I should just--"

"Don't even say it," Gerard interrupts Bob grimly.

"Oh yeah, it's too late. You have to stay at least through dessert." Mikey pats Bob consolingly on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family. But hey, at least there's chocolate cake to make up for any humiliation you might suffer."

***

"Well, what do you think?" Gerard asks, not impatiently but not exactly calmly either.

"Hm?" Bob drags his gaze away from the painting to find Gerard watching him with a concentrated stare, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, one hand clenched around his other arm. Bob is suddenly afraid of saying the wrong thing, the thing that will hurt or even crush Gerard. Bob knows he's assigning way too much importance to his own opinion, but Gerard's worried face makes it hard not to. "I don't really know anything about art."

"Oh. Oh, no. You don't have to give a critique or anything, just..." Gerard lets his breath out like he's been holding it a long time and steps forward, making vague shapes in the air with his hands. "How does it make you feel?"

"There's a lot going on here," Bob begins slowly, looking back at the painting and trying to feel his way across unfamiliar terrain. He motions at the barest impressions of fantastical creatures--unicorns, fairies, basilisks, griffons, batlike creatures, and more-- staring out of the shadows between the twisted trees of a forest. "The woods are kind of spooky and the faces are a little unsettling. But the kids--that's you and Mikey, right?"

Bob points at the figures of two little boys in the foreground, one with wild black hair and a defiant stance, the other one smaller with glasses and what looks like a human heart clutched in his fist. They're holding hands and looking up, watching the flight of a giant owl that swoops down from the trees.

"Yes," Gerard says faintly, but Bob has warmed to his subject now and barely nods before continuing.

"There's something about the kids, sort of...hopeful. Like, the owl represents something really important to them. It's not threatening or scary to them. It's a good-- Bob breaks off as he realizes what assumptions he's making. "I'm not...is that okay? Like I said, I don't really..."

Gerard shakes his head and reaches out, putting one hand on Bob's arm and the other on Bob's shoulder as he steps in close. Bob can feel how cold Gerard's hands are through his sleeves. "That's perfect. Whatever you feel is okay. It's right, no matter what the artist intended. That's what art is all about--the unique personal experience of the viewer."

"I didn't want to get it wrong," Bob says, and Gerard's cold hand moves to cradle his face and Bob feels too warm, too awkward, too...something he can't name but gives him a swooping feeling in his stomach as if his internal organs are trying to take flight like the owl.

"There is no right or wrong. I would have only been disappointed if you said you felt nothing. Anything else is wonderful." Gerard pauses, his eyelashes flutter as he blinks and his face kind of glows with sincerity or something similar. Bob is not always the best judge of things, but it's a good look for Gerard, whatever it is. When Gerard finally speaks again, his voice is low and steady, "Look, don't freak out and don't say anything right away, but I have to get this out. I love you."

Bob blinks and his hands tighten on Gerard's hips, and he doesn't know what to say so he's glad that Gerard took the pressure off by telling him he didn't have to say anything. Bob is not sure he could. He has no right to be surprised. None at all. He knew Gerard was into him just as he's been completely gone on Gerard for what feels like forever but has only been weeks. But love is a whole new level, one that Bob has mostly avoided either intentionally or completely by accident. The feeling doesn't scare him nearly so much as putting words to it, with words come expectations and promises and all kinds of terrifying things that he knows he'll have to deal with eventually.

When Gerard starts to pull away, Bob cracks a tiny smile and wraps his arms around him. "You told me not to say anything."

"Oh. Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking." Gerard laughs and just holds onto Bob for a while.

Eventually, Mikey shouts down the stairs that dinner is ready. Bob follows Gerard up to the kitchen and neither of them mention Gerard's declaration until Bob is about to get into his car to leave.

Bob looks down at Gerard's fingers entwined with his for a moment and then he meets Gerard's eyes. "I'm not... Even if I don't say it, it doesn't mean I don't." He tugs at Gerard's hand and brings it up in front of his mouth and smiles against Gerard's skin. "You understand that, right?"

Gerard smiles back softly. "I think I do."

 

***

Mikey waits until Monday to call Spencer, and even then he just sends him a text asking when he'd be free to talk. During a flurry of texts back and forth, they discover that their work schedules overlap for the next few days, so Wednesday night is the best time for them to meet. Mikey briefly considers suggesting Starbucks, but then decides they need privacy for this conversation so he asks Spencer to come to his place instead. Not that he thinks there will be drama--Spencer is not the type--but some things are hard enough to talk about period, much less in public.

Spencer comes over on Wednesday night and they have some sushi Mikey picked up on the way home. Afterwards, they spend an awkward half hour of playing with Bunny and making small talk, until Spencer finally asks, "So what did you want to talk about?"

"_Want_ is probably not the right word," Mikey says with an attempt at humor that is nonetheless true. He gives Bunny's ears one last scritch and gets up from the floor and sits next to Spencer on the couch--close but not touching. "Gee pointed out that I need to explain...um, Sunday. So you don't think I'm just a dick or something."

"I didn't think that," says Spencer, as he turns to face Mikey better, sitting sideways on the couch so his knee is brushing against the side of Mikey's thigh. Mikey wants to lay his hand on Spencer's knee, just curl his fingers over the curve of his kneecap and leave them there while they talk. He reaches for his soda instead. "I thought you thought that about me."

Mikey can't help but laugh at how ridiculous that sounds--how ridiculous they are. "That's a lot of thinking."

"Maybe. Or maybe not enough," Spencer says with a shrug. He looks down at his own hands clenched in his lap. "Did I do or say something?"

"No. No, not at all. That's why Gee said I had to talk to you, but I don't..." Mikey takes a sip of his drink and sets the can back on the coffee table, positioning it just so on one of the English pub coasters that Gerard got off Amazon for a housewarming present. This one is advertising a brewery called King's Ransom and it's one of Mikey's favorites. And he realizes that he's leaving Spencer hanging by going off on a mental tangent instead of actually answering the question. "I hate talking about this. I'd rather just make out or something and let everything go back to the way it was."

"We could do that," Spencer agrees with a quirk of his lips that's not quite a smile but almost. "But would it?"

"It's just not that big of a deal."

"It is if I think I've pissed you off and don't even know how." Spencer reaches out then, just brushing his fingers across the back of Mikey's hand briefly before withdrawing again. "Mikey. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Okay." Mikey takes a deep breath and lets it out before saying softly, "Okay. I take meds and talk to a therapist occasionally. They're really just check ups now. I don't, like, need to talk to her just to deal with...you know, daily stuff. I'm dealing. It's fine."

Spencer reaches out again, hooking his fingers around Mikey's this time and holding on. "That sounds good. I mean, dealing is definitely good, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just...sometimes I kind of withdraw, I guess. It's something I've always done, even before. It's a coping mechanism and I'm not always aware that I'm doing it." Mikey stops and checks Spencer's reaction.

Spencer nods and has this thoughtful look on his face. Mikey imagines it's what he looks like when he's in class learning about drugs and whatever else pharmacy school teaches. "Okay, that makes sense, I guess. Does it happen a lot? I mean, in the middle of conversations like that?"

"Not too often anymore." Mikey shrugs and turns Spencer's hand in his so he can fit them together more completely. "You just have to remember that it's not you. If I'm actually pissed off at you, I will tell you so. No passive-aggressive bullshit."

"I work in a pharmacy," says Spencer and Mikey blinks at the apparent non sequitur but then Spencer continues, "so I'm a master at not taking stuff personally. One day last week I spent most of my shift on the drive-thru window, and I got cussed out so many times I finally told Amanda if she didn't take me off drive-thru I was going to go postal. She was impressed I'd lasted as long as I had, so I don't know, maybe it was a test or something. See how many times Spencer can be called a moron for shit he has no control over before he cracks."

"That sucks, dude." Mikey says, glad that people don't get as heated up over their DVD rentals as they do over their medications.

Spencer shrugs and says, "Well, anyway. Now I know."

"And we're cool?" Mikey can't help but ask.

"Yes. Now if you still want to make out..." Spencer moves closer, his and Mikey's free hands reaching for each other at the same time.

"Cool," Mikey whispers against Spencer's mouth.

***

Spencer doesn't stay the night with Mikey after their talk. Mikey offers but doesn't push when Spencer uses the excuse of an early lab the next day. And it occurs to Spencer as he's driving home that Mikey doesn't ever push about anything. He has opinions about plenty of things--especially music--and he'll argue them if he feels like you're worthy. He seldom bothers to argue with idiotic ideas or people because he says it's a waste of his time.

Spencer has always appreciated that about Mikey, his fairly easy going nature, because it means that he doesn't get mad when Spencer has to bail on hanging with him because of an important test to study for or blame Spencer when his work schedule changes at the last minute and interferes with their plans. He seems to understand that between work and school Spencer doesn't actually have a lot of free time. Mikey is kind of the perfect boyfriend in that respect.

In others, he's not so perfect, which is fine and how it should be. Nobody is ever perfect. Spencer certainly doesn't come close even on his best days, so he's all right with the fact that Mikey is way codependently closer to his brother than is normal, has occasional lapses of common sense and some odd ideas about unicorns, and doesn't give away much of what he's feeling. He doesn't even mind too much when Mikey talks about comic books Spencer's never read or movies he's never seen in ways that make it clear that Mikey's forgotten that Spencer has no idea what he's talking about.

As Spencer parks outside his apartment and gets out of his car, he wonders what would make Mikey push for more from him, more of anything at all. He doesn't know exactly what he wants from Mikeyway. What he already has is pretty good. None of the other people Spencer has dated would put up with Spencer's overloaded schedule and lack of time to be a proper boyfriend. And it's not that Spencer really wants to have whole conversations about feelings, because that's always embarrassing and weird. But the occasional indication of how Mikey felt would be nice.

There was an incident of actions speaking louder than words the night of Frank's party, Spencer remembers as he gets changed for bed. Brendon tends to get extra cuddly when he drinks, so at the party he was hanging all over his friends--especially Spencer, who kept wondering if it was bothering Mikey at all. He couldn't tell because Mikey didn't say anything or get his bitchface on, just kept talking to Spencer and Brendon and other people he knew, with no indication that another dude had his hand wrapped around Mikey's boyfriend's hip. Until that one moment. That one moment, late in the evening, when Mikey came up and put his arms around Spencer, dislodging Brendon's loose embrace. It hadn't been a big dramatic thing--Brendon had barely seemed to notice--but it had meant a lot to Spencer. It was a sign that Mikey did care and would rather be touching Spencer than watching someone else touching him.

Spencer climbs into bed and thinks about Mikey, about the first time he saw him. It was at a little club downtown and the second band was just about to start their set. Brendon was dragging Spencer through the crush of bodies to get closer to the stage, and like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy, the crowd opened up a little and there he was. This lanky guy wearing a Radiohead t-shirt and a seriously sparkly belt on his low-slung jeans was just standing in the middle of all these people looking completely at ease and self-possessed. He wasn't trying too hard to look cool, he just, kind of, _was_.

For the rest of the night, Spencer kept looking for him, checking him out when he was sure the guy wasn't paying attention, but he never tried to talk to him. He saw him around a few more times in similar situations, but never spoke to him then either.

It was actually weeks later when he met Mikey properly, in the parking lot at work, strangely enough. His second day of work, he'd just gotten out of his car when Mikey pulled up and dropped Gerard off for his shift. Gerard had waved Spencer over and introduced them, and Spencer had smiled and shook Mikey's hand and did not blurt out how he'd seen Mikey around looking all hot and cool at the same time. He had not done or said anything extraordinarily dorky or particularly interesting, but for some reason Mikey had remembered him the next time they happened to be in the same bar to hear the same band.

Tonight, Spencer had said he was cool with what Mikey had told him, and he was. Well, trying to be. It's not that he was suddenly judging Mikey or even seeing him differently. He's still the same hot, occasionally nerdy, guy that Spencer thinks he might kind of possibly be a little bit in love with. Maybe. It's just a lot to deal with, and Spencer hasn't really had to deal with anything even close to this before. He's worried. Both about Mikey and about himself fucking up and hurting Mikey or making him worse or something.

Having a relationship with Mikey is going to be more work than he expected, and certainly more work than any previous relationship he's had. He'll have to learn to be understanding about Mikey's moods. And he is. Of course he is because he knows that brain chemistry can be a complex and delicate thing and meds only do so much. But he knows this academically, not personally. He's going to learn, because Mikey is worth it. He is so worth it.

Just before he falls asleep, Spencer thinks maybe he should talk to Gerard because nobody knows Mikey as well as Gerard does and nobody else would know best how to handle him. The only drawback is that Gerard would tell Mikey that Spencer asked about him. But maybe that would be okay too. Spencer falls asleep feeling optimistic.

___________

 

Note: Sorry there won't be any more of this. You can consider it finished if you wish. There is a Bob/Gerard story set in the same universe several months in the future called [Let the Freedom Begin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/50794).


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